


Seven Hours Until

by Big_Boss



Category: Free!
Genre: College, Domestic Fluff, Established Relationship, Fluff, Future Fic, Hugs, M/M, Slice of Life, So Married, Tokyo (City), University, lots of hugs
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2013-10-05
Updated: 2014-08-28
Packaged: 2017-12-28 11:26:36
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 13
Words: 24,833
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/991489
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Big_Boss/pseuds/Big_Boss
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Makoto wasn’t his world. He was more like his breakfast, his apartment keys, his umbrella on a rainy day, or even his other sock. These are the considerably trivial things that when lost, can ruin a person’s day. So when Haruka moved to his parents' place in central Tokyo to attend the same university as him, he finds himself visiting Makoto’s apartment in Chiba a little too often.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Intro

If Haruka could list all the things he hated, noise and crowds would be among them. Unfortunately for him, Narita Airport was both of it combined.

When he arrived in the absurdly large airport after a 45-minute flight from Iwatobi, he was greeted by no one, other than shadowy strangers and occasional foreigners with their big bags and spinners while Haruka stood there almost to the point of cluelessness with only a heavy gym bag of clothes. To be honest, he felt afraid, even just for a moment. Where was the exit? Why was it so bright? Why were there so much people? Why was it so cold? Would he look stupid if he asked directions? Despite this his face remained calm, but his pale hands were sweating regardless of the harsh air-conditioning. Haruka stood frozen in place for a good few seconds and took about a minute more to gain the courage to walk out of the domestic terminal's arrival gate. With the LED lights and confusing signs and the increasing amount of people, he walked alongside passengers from the plane. As it was already seven in the evening, it wouldn't be a good idea to waste time, but even so Haruka opted it would be best to sit down in one of the many waiting areas to regain tranquility.

He realized he could've just taken the bullet train route, but that scared him even more, considering he had to transfer several times between lines and endure stopovers to get to Tokyo. To think that he also had to endure travelling alone for more than 45 minutes. Haruka preferred the plane. It was easier to book. Besides, Haruka always had the notion that train stations were harder to venture into.

He slid his phone so it would lit up. There were no new messages. A text or call from his parents would be helpful but nothing came. Haruka chose not to get his hopes up. His parents lived in a condominium in Shinjuku, too busy at work to even fetch their own son from the airport. What was up with that anyway? A perfectly sane mother would be excited to see her only son after years of separation. A perfectly sane father would drive his car to the airport to give his son a ride home. Haruka found it hard to empathize, since he himself wasn't too eager to reunite with his family. Perhaps indifference and stoicism runs in the family.

Fiddling with his blue phone, he remembered receiving instructions on how to go to his parent's home the day before his flight. He expected it would be easy, but when the poor boy reread the text message from his mother, he was at complete loss.

"Buy a ticket to Shinjuku Station," Haru muttered as he read the message. Okay, first things first. Buy a ticket. It should be easy, right? He stood up, but then sat down again as a nervous sigh escaped from his lips. "Where the hell do I buy it?" Was it a bus ticket? Or a train ticket? He clicked his tongue. Could his mother be any vaguer? He texted her about his worries but she never replied. Busy, most likely. His head looked right and left, his silky black hair flowing in respective directions, trying to look for anything that sells tickets. He regretted not having to research first. It was his first time traveling alone, in the capital at that. He was torn between asking for help from the airport staff and rushing in to battle by himself.

He was alone. Completely alone. So, he let himself relax in his frosty seat.

And all he could think about was wanting to swim.

He wanted to completely submerge himself in the water and mute every annoying sound that the stupid airport makes. Closing his eyes, he breathed in deep through his nose and then exhaled audibly. Haruka tried to replace the beeps of machines and endless murmuring of strangers into the sounds of the ocean waves hitting rocks and restlessly and boundlessly embracing the shore. It calmed him down for a second. He already missed the waters of Iwatobi. He had never been outside of his usual environment alone, outside the peaceful provincial atmosphere of Iwatobi, outside the presence of friends. But he wasn't alone for too long.

"Haru."

His eyes snapped open. The waves were gone and he was back in the airport. Oceanic blue eyes glistened at the tall outline of a man that shadowed over him.

Surprised, he let out a breathy, "Makoto?"

And the said man smiled. Haruka had never been so happy to see that same smile he had been seeing ever since they met. Makoto's hand was reaching out, and his towering build had the same posture whenever he pulled Haruka out of the pool.

Before responding to the kind gesture, Haruka asked, "How…?"

To Makoto, his question seemed incomplete. " _How_ did I know you're here? Your mom told me you were arriving today." Haruka let himself be pulled up, possessing that feeling that his friend had already heard the voice inside his head. "She said you already knew the way, but I figured Haru wouldn't know how to go to Shinjuku."

There he was talking too much again after a simple question. And what did he meant when he said he wouldn't know how to go to Shinjuku? Was he mocking him? Haruka scoffed at himself. No, Makoto wasn't like that. There wasn't even a hint of arrogance in his tone. It was more along the lines of genuine concern, as always.

Haruka joked with narrowed eyes and a frown, "Just a few weeks in Tokyo and you're already this cocky?" He heard Makoto laugh inoffensively and apologize so he looked to the side and mumbled, "I know how to go to Shinjuku."

"Hm? But it seems like you were sleeping earlier," Makoto said innocently.

"I was tired."

"Do you have a ticket, then?"

"A ticket to what?"

"I thought you knew."

Haruka wasn't even sure anymore if Makoto was hiding his arrogance beneath that smile of his. And he decided it would be hopeless to go against someone who totally knew what he was thinking. Makoto wore that face—the face whenever he went inside his best friend's mind. " _Fine_. I don't, okay? Just get me out of here."

It _was_ the train after all, Haruka thought, watching Makoto do nothing but stare into space. Haruka sat on the window seat with Makoto next to him. There were still a lot of people, but it was unnervingly quieter. Probably because it was a Sunday, even though it was already the evening rush hour. The train didn't make much noise and the people were either asleep or too busy tampering their smartphones.

"She didn't tell me it was Narita Express," Haruka said in a low voice, embarrassed as he scrutinized the 'JR East NEX' letters on his ticket. He really shouldn't be especially when it came to Makoto, but he couldn't help feeling a little ashamed. He crossed his arms and looked out the window to see nothing but black and dark metal scaffoldings and blurred city lights.

There was a soft laugh and a smile afterwards. "I was just like you when I first arrived here. You shouldn't feel embarrassed at all. And I've only been in the city for three weeks so once we get to Shinjuku I would be just as lost as you."

"Where do you live again?" Haruka knew of course, since Makoto kept his texts to a minimum of a hundred per day about his first days in Chiba and Tokyo, but he just wanted to keep the conversation going while changing the subject all the while. He removed his vision from the windows and focused his gaze to Makoto who looked at him just as earnestly.

"Me? Chiba. I've told you that before, I think? Mom and dad insist that I live somewhere in Tokyo near Haru but I didn't want to burden them so much. It's really too expensive. My tuition is already a bother so I want to cut expenses as much as possible. And the apartment we rented was half the price of studio types in Tokyo."

He was such a saint, Haruka thought. A selfless, noble saint. "But we're attending Waseda," Haruka said, secretly happy to say they were both attending the same university. Then, he asked, eyebrows furrowing. "Why'd you have to live so far?" He could tell Makoto was glad that he was worrying over him just by looking at his buoyant, green eyes.

"Don't worry," Makoto gently assured him with his usual smile. "The commute doesn't take too long. I'm only forty minutes away."

He had to look away. Haruka's thoughts were filled with how Makoto was simply too wonderful. So when the train speakers bellowed that they were arriving in Chiba, the boy with the starry blue eyes stood up abruptly and began walking towards the train exit.

"H-Haru?" Makoto frantically called out and got out of his seat as well, trying to catch up to Haruka. "We aren't in Shinjuku yet!"

The train came to a stop, slowly, but quietly, unlike the screeching trains in Iwatobi. Innocently, Haruka waited until the high-tech doors open, not paying attention to any of Makoto's warnings behind him.

"Haru!" he called out again.

It was too late. They were on the platform and the train was already leaving. The night was still young and Haruka couldn't quite describe Makoto's expression.

"Haru…" He mentioned his name again, this time with a voice coated with both kindness and surrender. But mostly surrender. Haruka didn't talk, as if waiting for the right timing. Instead, he began to walk away from the platform, feeling the weight of his gym bag over his shoulder again.

Haruka's silent steps stopped when Makoto blocked him, his big hands grasping both of his narrow shoulders. And that was when Haruka might have completely lost his guard, because as soon as his deep-sea eyes were snared by Makoto's green ones, he knew he was trapped.

He looked away desperately. Maybe a little too desperately. Makoto was going inside his head again.

Then he felt his grip lighten. So he looked back.

"You want to go to my place." It was more of a fact, the way Makoto said it. He didn't need to imply his words as a question. Because he knew. "What about your parents?"

Haruka frowned and looked at the platform floors that were surprisingly clean. He got to thinking. He might've acted impulsively when he got off the train, but he wasn't sure exactly what made him do it. "I'll tell them I got lost."

Makoto sighed. "They would blame me too, you know."

Haruka knew he didn't need to say anything else, didn't need to add anymore. Makoto had already read him. There was no escaping whenever he did that.

The one with green eyes just smiled, the usual sunny smile, a smile so sunny it felt like it bright as day, and Haruka was simply enchanted, by his warmth, by his kindness, by his touch. Makoto still had his hands on his shoulders, but it was light, like there was no weight at all. Haruka surrendered, finally, and stared straight into Makoto's eyes. Surrendered because he decided to speak.

"I want to stay at your place tonight."

And so they did. They might have spent a little too much on tickets since their original destination was Shinjuku and they both knew that didn't work out well. It was worth a thousand yen more than a ticket to Chiba. Then there was the starless night, a bus ride, short walks from one street to another, expensive-looking cars going back and forth from his vision, and the insufferable city lights. He relied on Makoto all throughout and had wanted to touch him, any part of him—his hand maybe or even just the sleeve of his jacket. He could say he was afraid of getting lost, even though the area where Makoto was living in wasn't exactly that urban, and had more of this residential feel to it. Although it was Tokyo's next door neighbor, Makoto's side of Chiba was quiet and suburban. Haruka liked it more than he expected.

"We're here," Makoto said, guiding Haruka by the wrist as he opened the door.

Makoto's apartment building appeared modern on the outside but became somewhat traditional on the inside. From the entrance, Haruka observed the three doors ahead, one north, one east, and one west, with only one butter-colored ceiling lamp illuminating the surroundings.

On the recessed and concrete part of the entrance, Makoto supported himself with his hand on the wall when he was in the midst of taking off his sneakers. He apologized, untying the strings of his shoes, "Sorry, it's still a bit messy. I haven't had the time to—!"

He was caught off-guard by Haruka by standing only on one leg. Then there was a loud thump on the ground when Makoto fell on the wooden elevated portion of the entryway. His eyes closed from the impact, so when tried to open it, the first thing he saw was Haruka's silky black hair.

"Haru?"

He stopped and finally noticed the weight of Haruka on his body. They were already down on the wooden floor when Makoto realized Haruka had tackled him, his arms tightly securing his wider waist.

Haruka hid his face in Makoto's chest and was tempted to fall apart above Makoto's warm, familiar figure. Because he missed him so much. He couldn't even begin to explain how much. He closed his eyes shut because he had wanted to tackle him ever since they reunited in the airport. But he couldn't at that time and held back. Makoto was good at holding back, and since Haruka knew he would be too shy to take initiative, he did him a favor by initiating the first move.

He wasn't able to see Makoto's face, but Haruka guessed it would be all red and confused. So he hugged him tighter.

How could three weeks without Makoto be so painful? Did Makoto missed him just as much as he did? He needed to know if there were times that Makoto would smile and think of him for absolutely no reason, if there were times he couldn't sleep at night and had to hug a pillow for comfort, if there were times he couldn't just _breathe_ because they were just so far apart. It was painful. Because that was how it was for Haruka. There were mornings he woke up disappointed, afternoons when he forgot to get out of the bathtub, subconsciously waiting for Makoto to wrap a towel around him, and nights when he just couldn't breathe.

He wondered about how Makoto would react until he felt strong arms wrap around his entire upper body. And Haruka felt like he was at sea, his big, strong arms hugging him the way the waves embraced the shore. There was that same sense of peace whenever he was streaming against the cool, serene water. Makoto was the sea, the waves, and his own form of water.

Makoto didn't even need to look at his eyes to know what Haruka wanted to say.

"I missed you too," he confessed, his voice strained and low. Haruka loved his low voice, because he knew he only used it during the highest point of his gentleness, of his emotions, of his love. The boy on top clenched the fabric of Makoto's jacket, moderately clawing his back. And Makoto reacted back and continued to stir and shift his arms because he felt like his embrace wasn't strong enough and he buried his face into Haruka's locks of dark hair.

"I couldn't stop thinking about you," Makoto murmured softly, and was loud enough for Haruka as he was speaking right next to his ear. He sounded so loving and the fact that he said the words Haruka wanted to hear made his heart flutter. "I couldn't sleep for three weeks." Haruka felt a hand on the back of his head, running through tresses of black, pulling him closer, again and again. Makoto breathed out, "And the truth is, I would've gone insane if Haru hadn't come here."

Blue, blue eyes sparkled and widened. Haruka had never felt so relieved. Makoto never woke up disappointed in the morning because he barely even slept. He was relieved because Makoto was suffering just as he was when he thought he was the only one. Because the thought of Makoto forgetting him and replacing him was far too unbearable. It didn't help one bit that Haruka grew so accustomed to his warmth and kindness and affection that having to touch and feel him and hear his quickening heartbeat were all he needed to survive.

Haruka sensed Makoto's chest heave, then the tall man beneath him kissed the side of his head before speaking ever so soothingly.

"I love you."

And for the first time that day, Haruka smiled, his lips curving against Makoto's chest.

"I know."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry if the airport and locations parts are too technical. Being a tourism student, I spent the entire semester researching about airports and transportation and booking reservations and ticketing and shit. Lolwat It would be easier for Haru if he landed on Haneda airport. Also lolwat because there are no night schedules for Chiba at night in Narita Express. 
> 
> Thank you for reading!


	2. Hands

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> It was the first day of college.

Even way back in kindergarten, it was always Haruka who would dispel all of Makoto’s anxiety and fears. Haruka was rarely ever nervous, so there were only a few chances for Makoto to help him get over it. Haruka was always the one who would hold his hand whenever there was a trace of nervousness on Makoto’s face, the one who would grab his hand and run away when Makoto was scared, and the one who would cup his cheek with his pale hands to calm him down. Makoto loved Haruka’s hands. His hands were soft, somehow bony, but still soft. They were rather small to be possessed by a guy. Makoto loved the pearly suppleness of his fingers and his palms, and its ability to magically calm every nerve on his body. No matter how much Haruka’s hands got pruned, how oily it got whenever he cooked, Makoto loved it.

Then he looked at his. His hands were bigger, and his fingers were longer. The back of his hand was slightly tanned, unlike Haruka’s pale ones. His hands were rough and huge and stiff and he wondered whether Haruka hated having to touch them most of the time.

Makoto closed his eyes and breathed in deep, inhaling the immaculate spring air. He was thinking too much. He already had a lot on his mind and thinking about how he missed Haruka’s hand wasn’t going to help at all.

Classes started on the 1st of April. In the midst of blooming cherry trees and the spring breeze, Makoto was inwardly shaking, standing in front of the private university’s memorial hall he kept seeing in brochures. The building was beige and bricked and resembled a clock tower. People surrounded him in all directions, and Makoto wondered whether they were freshmen or seniors. He admitted being extremely nervous. Who wouldn’t? He was back to being a freshman, a new blood, and in a prestigious university at that. It was unexpected, even for him, to have been accepted in Waseda after failing to get the quota grade in the University of Tokyo and Keio. Tokyo U was such a big name that Makoto wasn’t sure he would get in even from the start.

Students crowded the area and he could barely see the ground. A sigh seeped out from his mouth, mentally scolding himself for being such a coward. He tensed, sweat rolling on the side of his face despite the cool morning. He rubbed his shaky hands together and slapped his cheeks. An audible sigh, then a pursing of the lips.

“Makoto,” He heard an intimate voice say, along with the loud rustling of trees and the murmuring of strangers. The shaking of his hands stopped.

He felt it. The warmth in his hands, the softness, the familiarity—everything from Haruka. And he turned around just as the wind hummed a springtime song underway. Makoto mumbled quietly, luminous green eyes widening. “Haru…”

Haruka held his rough hand delicately and the trembling disappeared. In just one second, his worries were gone, and all he could think about was the warmth of Haruka's hands.

“Even though I commuted from Shinjuku, you still got here first.” Makoto forgot to reply, his quietness causing Haruka to worry. Their eyes met for a moment and that moment was all Haruka needed to know what Makoto was thinking. “…You’re nervous, aren’t you?”

Makoto felt the grip in his hands tighten, and that was when he fell back to reality.

“Well... yeah,” Makoto said, almost apologetically. He didn’t want Haruka to worry. Judging from the shorter boy’s knitted eyebrows and blue eyes, Makoto could tell he was concerned. He smiled. “But it’s fine. Somehow I’m not that nervous anymore, holding your hand like this.”

After hearing that, Haruka then took hold of both of his large hands. It surprised Makoto for a while until Haruka spoke, “Then I’ll hold them until your nervousness goes away…!”

It was all too cute. Haruka was way beyond cute in times like this. His purity would often cause little heart attacks for Makoto. So he reciprocated and clutched Haruka’s hands tighter, massaging it ever so gently with his thumbs. He laughed lovingly, then replied, “Really? Then you might end up holding them the entire day.”

“I don’t mind.”

But to be honest, Makoto's worries already faded away. He wished he could tell Haruka he was still scared, just so they could hold hands longer. But Haruka might be happier to hear that he wasn't nervous anymore. From the simple cupping of hands, Makoto bent his arms and intertwined his fingers with Haruka. Regardless of the heavy amount of people, Makoto bent down to shyly kiss Haruka’s hands, now entwined with his large fingers. “Thank you for being here.”

Makoto loved Haruka’s hands, how they move, cringe, fold, and how they feel against his own. His hands were like miracles. They were fragile, that every time Makoto would hold them, he felt like the slightest brush would make it bleed. Makoto watched him draw with those hands. He watched him sculpt wood into an aesthetically pleasing carving of a not so aesthetically pleasing bird mascot. Haruka’s hands were something that couldn’t hold still for even a second.

Makoto always thought that his own hands were worthless compared to Haruka’s. But despite that, Haruka still held them. He held Makoto’s hands as if it was art, as if it was a priceless marble sculpture. And that was when Makoto knew that despite its roughness and ineptitude, to Haruka, his hands were still worth holding.


	3. Umbrella

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> It was an abnormally hot spring day.

Maybe the first thing that irked Haruka the most when he first arrived in Tokyo was the overabundance of umbrellas. The fact that the sun wasn’t even as strong as it was in Iwatobi and the fact that it was spring confused him even more. If it was for the sake of protecting their skin, Haruka should’ve had skin cancer by now, after spending all his time swimming either in a pool, or the ocean, if it was calm and waveless. Not even once did he use an umbrella. With the exception of their high school club moderator, Amakata, or Ama-chan, as Nagisa affectionately called her, Haruka never knew anyone who would use an umbrella against the sun in his hometown. But then again, Amakata was originally from Tokyo, so perhaps the umbrella habit came from her stay in the city.

And he realized one midafternoon that he indeed needed an umbrella. Tokyo was a polluted city, no matter how much praise it obtained from fooling people into thinking it was an illustrious city. The streets were covered with so many people, making heat easier to circulate. And for someone who was able to withstand heat and sunlight at such an amazing degree, Haruka finally felt the mixture of the sun and the city kicking in. The crowded, narrow streets of Tokyo never got along well with the sun. And for once Haruka wanted to shield himself from the sun.

He never carried an umbrella. He was ready to walk under the sun, under the sky he so greatly venerated. Umbrellas hindered Haruka from looking at the sky—a spectacle of blue brush strokes and a painting of clouds and the very essence of freedom. For a moment, Haruka might have likened Makoto to the sky. Just like him, the sky was benevolent. One could say the blueness of water was indebted to it. But not once did the sky admonished the sea with terrible words of “you owe me”.

Then he caught a glimpse of his very own sky, walking towards him with a smile. The ever kindhearted man who would have held an umbrella over a duck on a rainy day.

Under the scorching sunshine, he could see Makoto panting a little, sweat rolling on the sides of his face. His face showed some sort of apology, as always. “Sorry, did you wait long?”

Haruka wordlessly shook his head. Makoto was late but he just tossed his tardiness aside and decided to forgive him. He could tell he had something to do at school. Makoto was someone who would work too hard and Haruka knew that all too well.

“Hm?” Makoto made a sound and Haruka wondered what caught his attention. “You’re sweating.”

Haruka looked to his side, away from the direct sunlight. “It’s too hot today.”

A handkerchief was pulled out. Makoto shifted closer and wiped the sweat on Haruka’s forehead, chuckling as he did so. “You don’t usually mind heat.”

He didn’t say anymore, aware that Makoto probably knew what he was going to say.

Makoto just smiled. “Let’s buy an umbrella.”

Surely, Haruka was used to it by now, but Makoto’s telepathy scared him sometimes.

Following the decision to buy an umbrella, Makoto walked on and Haruka scampered until he was beside him. He followed along with a secret smile, walking at a calm pace. Even after years together, Haruka still felt the need to hide his smiles, not because he didn’t want Makoto to see it, but because he knew his smile couldn’t compare to Makoto’s. He looked up next to him for a second to see Makoto’s face. He didn’t know where they were going, but Haruka appreciated that Makoto would lead them to shade whenever there was a chance.

Then the heat took a toll on him and Haruka felt a momentary sensation of nausea. It lasted only a second, maybe even less, but Makoto knew right away and clutched his wrist. “Haru, you want to go inside first?” he asked, pointing at a coffee shop just a few steps away.

Haruka sighed and yielded to the sun. “Yeah.”

Sitting inside the air-conditioned coffee shop, Haruka was on his second iced coffee, feeling a lot more refreshed. He had sweated too much and couldn’t handle the water inside his body slowly leaving him. It was unusually hot for a spring day. Springs in Iwatobi were a lot cooler. But the thing was that Haruka had a high tolerance for heat that it made Makoto worry. Haruka himself began to doubt his talent to withstan heat. Even the hottest days of summer barely bothered him, so why would he give in now? His eyes gazed at Makoto who just sat across, sipping his coffee float little by little.

"It's almost May, and the city's more humid," Makoto said, green worried eyes looking over at Haruka. "It must be because of that."

"Un." He bobbed his head when he realized Makoto answered his internal questions.

“Want another?” Makoto asked just as Haruka swallowed the last sip of his iced drink. He shook his head in response. But Makoto still stood up. “I’ll just get some water, then.”

Haruka glanced around, catching sight of a young couple holding hands and giggling in one table, then a group of high school girls at the corner, then finally the tall figure of Makoto, buying two bottles of water in the counter.

When he sat back down, Haruka discreetly made their knees touch under the table. For a while, Makoto wondered, but when he looked around and saw the same couple Haruka saw, he just smiled. And Haruka just looked to the side, because by that time he knew Makoto would’ve realized he was craving for any form of physical contact.

Back outside, they headed for the nearest convenience store for the umbrella. The sun was just as harsh and never spared Haruka from its rays. He realized the people’s inclination to umbrellas. And he realized that he wasn’t in Iwatobi, where the sun was considered as a blessing. He slowed down his pace and let Makoto walk ahead.

“Makoto,” Haruka murmured.

Before Makoto could look behind him, Haruka pushed his forehead on Makoto’s back and closed his eyes, even breathing out a sigh of relief.

“H-Haru…?”

Makoto thought Haruka was going to hug him. From an outsider’s view, it would be a relatively strange sight indeed, but Haruka’s arm didn’t move an inch. He simply clutched the back fabric of Makoto’s shirt.

“Keep walking,” Haruka ordered and Makoto curiously obeyed.

As he walked, Haruka’s forehead didn’t detach from his back.

Makoto couldn’t help but laugh. “People are looking.”

Haruka couldn’t care less, as he was someone who didn’t value other people’s opinion, unless it was Makoto's. So he didn’t care about what people would think when he was taking advantage of Makoto’s tall built as an umbrella. The sun was finally out of his face and he noticed that Makoto's back was sweating. He was aware that Makoto didn't mix in with the heat too well, and he felt bad for using him as a shield from the sun, but Makoto didn't mind. Because it was Haruka. When the taller man realized what Haruka was doing, he just smiled and walked along normally, as if there wasn’t a person using him as a human umbrella.

“Do you still need an umbrella?”

“Yeah. A green one."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry for late update. I've been traveling a lot this semestral break. Chapters tend to be short or long, depends on what happens really. Thank you for reading!


	4. Bed

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Haruka sleeps over at Makoto's.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> In most parts of Asia, the word "mansion" usually refers to an apartment.

For a bachelor type mansion located in the heart of Ichikawa, Makoto’s unit wasn’t so bad. It was small, but large enough for one person. The unit wasn’t luxurious, but it was fully furnished when he got there, was clean and the view from the veranda was pretty okay. The kitchenette was nothing but charming, the cabinets reaching up against the ceiling to maximize space. In the same room was a small table with two chairs, a comfy couch matching a moderately sized television set, and a sliding glass door leading to the veranda. Boxes used to fill most of the available space in the rooms, but Haruka helped him get rid of that. Space was mandatory for a man like him. He was a big guy, even though he forgot his size advantage most of the time, so the ceilings stretched high and it was perfect.

It took an awful lot of time for him to adjust. There was no denying it was a little heartbreaking. He was someone rather family-oriented so it made it hard for him to be alone. His parents weren’t there with him and his two siblings, loveable as they may be, weren’t there to pester him to play hide-and-seek or force him to play house or invite him in Ran’s tea parties. He missed the twins as much as the twins missed him, and they called his phone every hour and learned how to text just to contact him. Makoto wondered if there will ever be the time when they would stop doting on him. It was something inevitable, but he hoped they’d still be affectionate towards him even in their teenage years.

It was a good thing that Haruka had helped him unpack just days before, and boy was he good at it too. The things Makoto did for a day only took Haruka an hour. Maybe it was because he was used to living alone for years. But from the very start, he was aware Haruka was a fast worker when it came to household chores, and he appreciated the helping hand and company.

Surprisingly, Haruka hadn’t come to his home all day, even though the dark-haired man recently spent the entire Golden Week at his apartment. Almost every day he would turn up and knock on his door, stay for a while, sometimes an hour, sometimes the whole afternoon, and sometimes until midnight. And it got to him that it was impossible to imagine having to live an entire day without seeing Haruka.

Happy as he may be, he didn’t quite understand why Haruka was in the same university as him. Waseda was never in Haruka’s top choices. It was one of the best universities, and he believed Haruka was far better than him when it came to academics, but a maritime university was more fitting for Haruka, like Kaiyodai in Shinagawa. He was closer to the waters that way. Then again, that really wouldn’t be the most splendid of ideas since Haruka would be surrounded by bodies of water, and there was no stopping him in case he jumped into them.

“Maybe it’s for the best,” Makoto mumbled to himself. So instead, he was thankful he was in Waseda instead of any other university.

Then, as if in cue with Makoto’s thoughts, there were loud knocks coming from the door. And he only had one guess. Similar to how a puppy greets its owner, Makoto rushed to the door and there stood Haruka. The young man invited himself in, holding a paper bag of unknown contents.

“I brought dinner,” Haruka confirmed passively, but the eyes showed otherwise. He looked determined somehow, Makoto thought.

Makoto’s initial reaction was to hold him close, but he didn’t, feeling a bit shy. His excited expression softened into something much more mellow, and he realized just from the sparkling blue eyes that the dinner Haruka held was something he made himself. And so, the newly arrived guest settled in and prepared plates without permission or pleasantries—not that he needed them anyway.

Facing him was Haruka’s back, and he could see his muscles contract whenever his arms moved by the kitchen counters. “It’s late,” Makoto said, smiling, waiting for Haruka to finish, and then glancing quickly at the wall clock that pointed at ten o’clock. “You don’t usually come at this hour.”

He caught Haruka turn his head marginally in an attempt to face him. “It’s Saturday tomorrow. It’s fine.”

They were forty minutes apart, yet Haruka had the will to visit him on most days he was free, and Makoto was more than happy. It was Nanase Haruka after all. The boy who hated effort and wasting energy, but there he was at his home in Chiba, bringing along dinner and what not.

“You should call auntie," Makoto suggested. Haruka seemed disinterested in doing so. There were afterschool days he would come over at Haruka’s place instead, but his parents were usually there at night, so their conversations and actions were limited to 'friends-only'. "Your mom’s alright with you coming over here so late?” He asked with concern.

There was a slight delay before Haruka answered, “…It’s alright if it’s you.”

It was difficult to know what face Haruka had when he said things like that. And Makoto noticed way back that he would occasionally find a clever way to hide his face whenever he said something remotely embarrassing or out of character.

The Thai chicken green curry Haruka made was fantastic— _way_ better than the instant ones he bought from convenience stores. For the most part, dinner consisted of Makoto sprouting praises in between eating. It was embarrassing enough in Haruka’s part, but Makoto thought it was indescribably cute; how he would turn away, often times with a slight blush, or how he would modestly deny his compliments, saying, “It’s nothing special.”

There was nothing left from the green curry after dinner. And when it was finally time for Haruka to leave, Makoto pursed his lips, just as the other was about to put on his shoes.

“Stay for the night.”

It might have been likely that Haruka was putting on his shoes as slowly as possible, some sort of indication that he was waiting for Makoto to say those words all along. Almost midnight, Makoto simply smiled when Haruka didn’t have any objections to skipping any more small talk in favor of heading straight to bed.

Makoto prepared for their goodnight sleep while he let Haruka wait in the bedroom. His bedroom was small. Nothing surprising there. Haruka had already seen it multiple times. There was a wardrobe on the right, a curtained window to the north, and a single bed on the west corner which always made Haruka wonder if it was large enough for Makoto.

“You left some clothes here if you want to change,” Makoto said, pointing at the top drawer. Aside from shirts, there were bits and pieces of small possessions which Haruka had left, often times intentionally. “I’ll be sleeping on the couch.”

“ _Wait_ ,” He heard Haruka object almost instantly.

It surprised him. He spoke so little all night yet his voice sounded so forbidding. Green eyes were wide and he stared back at Haruka in disbelief. “Y-Yes? Do you need anything else?”

His tone unwavering, Haruka nearly shouted, “…I’ll sleep on the couch…!”

“I won’t let you sleep there. You’re the gue—”

“ _I’m_ sleeping on the couch,” Haruka said again with resolute and barged out, complete with the stomping of his feet. Makoto followed him anxiously until they were in the living room and it was partly amusing how Haruka looked so angry at the pillows and blankets that were already spread over the couch and ready to be laid on.

“Haru…” Makoto whirred miserably. His stubbornness knew no bounds. The first time he stayed for the night he had no qualms sleeping on the bed, perhaps too jetlagged to protest.

Haruka proceeded in covering his entire body with the soft thick sheet before letting out an aggravated, “Good _night_.”

“Haru, the couch is fine for me—”

The boy beneath the covers aggressively popped his head out from the sea of blankets. “You barely fit on the bed, what makes you think you’d fit in here?”

Even though he had a point and that Haruka was awfully adorable with his pretend tantrum, Makoto wasn’t letting any of it get to him. There was no way he would let him sleep on the couch. He was too nice to let that happen. Having to let Haruka sleep uncomfortably made him feel terrible. So he did what had to be done. He took a solid step forward.

“…Mako—!”

All Makoto could think of was the fact that Haruka was shockingly light for a guy, and an athlete at that. He was expecting him to be heavier. That or maybe he was just that strong.

“Did you lose weight?” Makoto, innocent and calm, asked like there wasn’t a person hanging on his right shoulder. Haruka kept struggling and protesting almost to the point of nearly falling down. He looked like a caterpillar hanging from a branch, the thick blankets still around his body.

“…Put me down, Makoto,” Haruka grumbled, squirming like a worm until it became more and more difficult to carry him. He warned once more with a threatening tone, “ _Makoto_ …”

It wasn’t easy to carry Haruka and even before Makoto could reach the bedroom, Haruka already knew it was near impossible to free himself even if he really tried. Meanwhile, Makoto knew he would give up. He knew that he had some kind of power, although not necessarily just physical, over Haruka, and that ever so often he would use it to his advantage to let things go his way.

Before Haruka could fully register what Makoto wanted to do, the man flung him from his shoulder and onto the bed. As Makoto was aware he had the power, he also knew Haruka _hated_ being overpowered, and so before he could land onto the softness of the bed, Haruka instinctively pulled Makoto’s stalwart body along with him, earning a surprised scream, and Makoto ended up squishing him against the mattress.

“Ah, sorry,” he apologized, but Haruka remained unharmed. They stayed like that for a while, and simply stared into each other's eyes, conversing silently and wordlessly. It was a crucial moment of impulse, a moment of need, that Makoto found himself wrapping his arms around Haruka’s frame, all the while careful not to put too much weight over him. He was there, beneath him, so he took the chance. From the second he arrived, Makoto had wanted to hold him close, burrow his face in his neck, and absorb everything—from his scent, to his touch, to the beating of his heart. And he wondered if he would ever get used to it.

His senses short-circuited when he felt Haruka's touch. The boy beneath him countered just as thoughtfully, wrapping his arms around the other’s neck and brushing his lips against his olive brown hair. It didn’t bother them that they barely fit on that single bed. But at least they didn’t have to continue arguing.

Because no one slept on the couch that night.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Here's something relatively longer! As you may have noticed I'm switching POVs every chapter and that's going to be a thing now. I'm on a roll because it's my semestral break and it's just so fun writing this for some reason. Thank you so much for reading~!


	5. Selfish

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> There was only one time when Makoto was selfish.

“Haru-chan, get out of there, you’re going to be late.”

With half of his body dipped in water, Haruka dismissed his mother’s subdued warnings. He didn’t bother to reply and instead let himself sink deeper in the tub. If it weren’t for the large bathtub, Haruka wouldn’t be able to survive in his parent’s house. It wasn't as if his parents weren't doing a good job in taking care of him, in fact they had been spoiling him with gifts, asking him what material things he wanted. But Haru wasn't shallow enough to be bribed with material things. He was still bitter, even just a little. He heard his mother knock on the bathroom door a few times, saying again and again he’d be late.

He answered this time in a monotonous shout, “My first class is at eleven.” That was a lie. Makoto called in advance that he wasn’t able to go to school with him, saying he had to do something, Haruka forgot exactly what, thus losing what little motivation left to attend his first period—which was at nine, and it was half an hour until nine, so he was late no matter how much he hurried.

It was enough to fool his mother, though. She had no idea of his schedule, or anything about his classes, so it was always easy to lie to her. “Oh, okay, then. I thought it was nine,” she said, then laughed afterward. Haruka could hear the clicking of her high heels even from the inside. “I’ll be going now, okay? I left some breakfast at the table.”

When the next few minutes were quiet, Haruka assumed she had left. He felt terrible lying to his mother, but he wanted to stay in the bath for the rest of the morning. Aside from not being able to see Makoto, he was highly deprived of water. For days, he was unable to swim. Though there was a pool in his university, it was closed for the first several weeks, and was reserved for the swimming team.

Maybe he should join the swim team.

It got him thinking if Makoto would be willing to join, too. Knowing him, he probably would, as long as Haruka was there as well. Although meetings wouldn't be as carefree as his high school swim club, Haruka really thought of joining. He wondered how vigorous the training would be, considering it was a college level team. He reminded himself to ask Makoto the next time they would meet.

He sunk his whole body until his head was the only thing not underwater. At that moment, he couldn’t help but feel mild nostalgia, suddenly recalling his high school graduation. Of course he remembered it. He ditched his graduation in a middle of a ceremony to completely and helplessly submerge himself in his tub. Because his graduation day was the same day he learned that Makoto got accepted in a university in Tokyo.

And he was pissed. Because Makoto never told him first, never even hinted that he’d be going to a university out of town. Remembering it made Haruka blow angry bubbles under the water. It was painful enough to hear the news from someone else, but it had hurt more because Makoto didn’t tell him anything. The thing was, Haruka never planned on going to college, and even if he was forced into going to college by his parents, he intended to attend one in town, or at least some university reasonably near town.

But then there was Makoto, suddenly making decisions on his own. Once more, Haruka got himself mad and went underwater entirely, long enough until he could no longer hold his breath, then he popped out again.

He raised a hand in front of him, which was beginning to prune. Just like that time.

Back then, even though it was their graduation, even though it was March, Haruka closed the entire world by submerging himself in a tub full of nothing but ice cold water. He didn’t even bother using the heater. He remembered feeling so devastated that he couldn’t even make sense of his surroundings, couldn’t even differ what felt hot and what felt cold. He wanted to be with the water as soon as possible that he didn’t care. He breathed unsteadily as he clumsily fumbled for the faucet. He was such in a hurry that he forgot to take off his uniform, and realized it would be the last time he wore it. But he didn’t care. His systems shut down completely.

The ceremony was held in the gym. When the third years were preparing in one classroom, the same one they used every day, Haruka was approached by a classmate.

“Hey, I heard Tachibana got into a university in Tokyo. Guess you’re going with him, huh?”

Haruka felt his knees weaken. At first, he didn’t believe it but when his homeroom teacher asked him the same question;

“Have you decided on a university? Tachibana-kun’s going to one in the city.”

And all Haruka wanted to do was run. He couldn’t wait to get away. Upset and offended, he evaded Makoto even in the ceremony itself, thankful that the students were lined up chronologically by last name, making Makoto stand way far behind him.

The national anthem was sung. Haruka didn’t even open an inch of his mouth. After that was the school song, and that was when Haruka ran away. From the corner of his eye, he saw Makoto’s frantic eyes follow his running figure, but he knew Makoto wouldn’t follow. Not because he didn’t want to, but because he couldn’t, not with his family around watching him with proud eyes.

Without even stopping to rest, Haruka reached his house—his cold, lonely house—and headed straight to the bath. And he sat in the tub of what seemed like ice water, still fully clothed, practically freezing. But still the water gave him refuge, it always had, and that was enough for Haruka.

It was a strange reaction. He was doing his best to get rid of the ugly, selfish thoughts that were eating him, putting his hand pressed to his mouth. It was hard to tell, even for him, whether he was angry, or miserable, or remorseful—it could have been none of these even. He refused to acknowledge the fact that Makoto was leaving him behind. Makoto knew he wasn't leaving town for college or work. Why would he do that? And what if Haruka didn’t find out? Would Makoto leave without saying anything? At that point, Haruka doubted Makoto would even say goodbye. It was a bit of an exaggeration. It just broke him that Makoto’s streak of honesty and openness suddenly came to a halt.

“…You idiot…” he said in an almost inaudible whisper, feeling that painful lump in his throat.

Nothing; He told him absolutely nothing and Haruka couldn’t help but want to destroy something, _anything_. The very thought of Makoto leaving him crashed upon him. He couldn’t describe it.

The only thing he knew was that he was scared to death.

He wanted very much to punch something, but instead, he hugged his knees and hid his face in his arms. His body felt heavy, and not just because his clothes were also soaked. He stayed like that, exactly on that same position, up until the exact second Makoto came bursting through the door.

“Haru!” Makoto huffed, his hands on his knees, panting. Did he run too? He looked tired and sweaty. Haruka wasn’t ready. Nothing prepared him for that rueful flicker in Makoto’s green eyes, so he swiftly turned his head away. He was frozen in shock, but he could tell Makoto already knew the reason he bailed out. The lights were off and the only source of light was the faint morning glow.

There was this impenetrable silence. And all Haruka could hear was Makoto’s erratic panting. In his hands were two diplomas, so Haruka assumed the ceremony was over. But more than a minute had passed, and Haruka still hadn’t found the strength to look directly at the man by his bathroom door. Why wasn’t he saying anything? Haruka thought. He waited for him to speak, and hopefully he could gain some kind of nerve to actually speak himself.

“I’ll get your towel,” was all he said and walked out of the room. And so somehow Makoto’s voice helped him get on his feet and actually get out of the tub. He hesitated at first, taking a deep breath.

Makoto wasn’t wearing a smile when he came back with a towel. But he looked so awfully worried that he didn’t hesitate to approach a miserable Haruka and wrap a towel around his shivering, clothed body. Haruka just stood there, unmoving, letting Makoto do what he wanted.

Haruka flinched when Makoto was about to leave the room again to get dry clothes. And his eyes focused on his retreating back. A spark of electricity livened his every nerve that made him dash towards Makoto, tackling him to the wooden floors.

“Why didn’t you tell me?” Haruka asked in a broken voice. He was sitting on top of him now. Knees bent on both sides of Makoto's waist. “Everyone else knew except me…!” He sounded so disappointed and offended. It didn’t help that it was Makoto, the last person who would hide things from him.

At that moment he saw Makoto closing his eyes shut, remorsefully so, then he felt Makoto shift. His head was in Makoto’s arms, his face nestled tightly on his chest, then found himself seeing visions of darkness, images of loneliness, but despite it vanished just as quickly, under Makoto’s embrace.

“I didn’t know… how to tell you,” Makoto began, his voice even more broken and fissured than Haruka's. It was so quiet he could hear nothing but Makoto’s rushes of breath. “I thought it would be better for us to…” Makoto stopped, recognizing his words as a misadventure. A breathy laugh and a weak smile. “It was such a stupid idea. Because I realized that I needed you more than you needed me and it kills me. And it got me thinking that… I can’t count on you forever, so I decided to leave. I want to stay, I honestly do. But I—”

“Then don’t go,” Haruka said, his words cutting him off and then drifted like the morning fog.

It would’ve hurt less if Makoto was honest from the start. That was what Haruka thought. And he never thought he would be the one to hold Makoto back.

“Don’t go…” He repeated softly as he shivered above him. He felt long, crooked fingers run through his damp tresses of black, seemingly like ink in contrast to Haruka’s icy pale skin.

“Haru, listen, please,” Makoto murmured softly and windingly giving off that feeling that he had no control of his decisions. And by his voice alone Haruka knew he couldn’t stay, even if he wanted to. Makoto took a deep, shaky breath. “The thing is, I can’t do it. I thought I could. But I just can’t. It’s selfish, what I’m about to say, but let me be selfish just this one time…”

And Haruka waited, his bent knees on the verge of turning into ice.

“Come with me.”

The delicate line of his lips trembled and Haruka’s eyes beautifully glimmered, long dark lashes fluttering again and again because he couldn’t stop blinking and he couldn’t stop the water in his blue velvet eyes.

“I want you to come with me,” Makoto said again as if trying to correct himself.

So Haruka did what he was told, without hesitation nor disdain, and let Makoto be selfish for the first time.

“I will…” His arms, his body, felt warm, warmer than the towel he had so greatly forgotten. He buried himself deeper beneath Makoto’s earthy embrace, letting the man soak the remaining water that clung to his quivering body. “I’ll go with you.”

Then he woke up.

And he realized that a short dream of the past had the same rumination and gravity of an entire memory. His thoughts and dreams mingled together so vividly he wasn’t sure whether it was a dream or a daunting abstraction. It wasn’t that long ago, but he could feel his soul just as drenched as his body. Haruka noticed the wrinkles on his fingers and toes for spending too much time in the water, but most importantly, he noticed the painful stinging in his eyes when he opened them.

“Haru,” he heard his name being called. And he froze in surprise. Makoto stood by his bathroom door, just like before, just like always. Makoto would’ve wondered why Haruka looked so relieved. “Your mom called me about your schedule. You're skipping school again, aren't you?”

With eyes shining with the morning afterglow, Haruka disregarded the fact that Makoto basically snitched on him and simply smiled, looking at him like he was magic. And Makoto was even more confused.

Haruka suddenly had the urge to go to class, his laziness and apathy disappearing like bubbles. Because he made a decision to come with Makoto. And he chose to attend the same university as him. He chose Waseda. Even though his parents preferred Keio, even though he himself preferred Kaiyodai, he chose to be with Makoto. When he first decided to come with him, his only thoughts were as long as he was in the same city as Makoto, everything would be fine. Then he realized early on that it wasn’t enough. He needed to see him every day. He was so used to his company that he couldn’t picture a day without his smile.

Makoto was the same, he had known that for a long time, and even more so when the man in a dark blue twill shirt reached out a hand, pulling him out of the tub. Haruka wasn’t wet in his uniform just like on their graduation day. This time he was naked, and Makoto didn’t waste time in cloaking him with a large towel, so endearingly, with the most devoted eyes, as if he was gift-wrapping his most cherished possession.

“You can still make it… if you… hurry…” Makoto’s words seemed to float away in both surprise and mild confusion when Haruka, arms helplessly bound beneath the towel, embraced him without the use of his arms, if that was even possible.

He simply nestled himself upon Makoto’s body until the other hugged back, but unlike Haruka embraced with arms as strong as the tides. With his nose pressed against the other’s heart, Haruka was able to smell his scent; like freshly picked lavenders, and the sea breeze, mixed with the slightest, most gentle whiff of selfishness.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I just really love hugs ok? Even more than kisses. This isn't angst isn't? After all it was pretty much going full-on sweet in the end. I'd really like to know your thoughts on this. Thanks for reading! And thanks very much to the lovely comments! Here's [a playlist I made](http://8tracks.com/tammyhyeong/seven-hours-makoharu) just for this.


	6. Dreamcatcher

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Makoto wakes up from a nightmare.

In Makoto’s dreams, he couldn’t help but feel like the worst person in the universe. Unlike his sweet, innocent daydreams, he would dream about wanting Haruka all to himself—no one else was allowed to touch him. He dreamt about keeping him locked away. Away from the world. Away from others. But there were times he would dream about Haruka leaving him because he was fed up, because he clung to him and he wasn’t good enough. It pained him that the only one that made him so brilliantly happy was the enigmatic presence of Haruka, and was also the only one that made him just as sad.

“Haruka!” he would always call out. Again and again, until there was silence, and it would take him a moment to realize that Haruka roamed in his dreams like the waning moonlight, drifting away tortuously until Makoto could no longer shout his name. The echoes were painful in his ears, and the darkness of it all, of his surroundings, made him want to close his eyes. But he didn’t, afraid that Haruka would disappear the moment he took his gaze away from him.

At times, his nightmares would consist of hurting him, the person he loved the most, now and again, physically, sometimes emotionally. All because he wanted him all to himself. But in reality, Makoto was the one in pain, the one being tortured. Makoto was too virtuous and pure, but these nightmares were as hungry as demons, feeding on his heart. Often he would wake up in cold sweat, reaching desperately for warmth that wasn’t there. His hands unconsciously searched for Haruka, yearning for comfort, to help him chase away the demons responsible for his nightmares.

Dreams were created to be a world that was entirely different.

“Makoto.”

He was thankful dreams weren’t reality.

“Makoto?”

It was Haruka’s voice that caused Makoto to break out of his trance. He heard sounds of wheels screeching. He made sure everything was real, and it was, making him sigh in relief. He took in his surroundings, realizing he had fallen asleep on the train. Then he glanced over to Haruka, who was sitting next to him, blue eyes staring at him like he was about to explore the Pacific Ocean. He must’ve looked so frightened to make Haruka stare at him like that.

“Are you alright?” Haruka asked, leaning in for a closer look, trying to search behind Makoto’s troubled eyes. Was he trying to read his mind? Just seeing his face calmed him. Dreams were dreams. And he knew it was impossible for him to hurt such a person.

Makoto put up a front and just beamed at him. “Just a little nightmare.”

“What was it about?”

The question boggled him, because when he tried to recall, nothing came up. “I… forgot.” It scared him that some dreams could eat away a person then be forgotten on the next second. Makoto wondered if his short nightmare included Haruka, because when he woke up, his chest was aching and his eyes yearned for no one but Haruka. Feeling restless, he just shook his head. It was better that he couldn’t remember.

“Haru, can you sleep over today?”

“I intended to from the start.”

It was almost ten in the evening when they arrived in Chiba. After eating a convenience store dinner outside, something Haruka wasn’t used to, they went back home to Makoto's apartment. They had agreed long ago that the couch was not made for sleeping and thus made a decision to sleep on the single bed, no matter how small it was for the two of them. When they were done, Makoto dimmed the lights.

Makoto was suddenly afraid. And he regretted having to turn the lights off. The inside of his mind was already dark to begin with, so he put on an act and tried not to appear scared. It didn’t work. It was Haruka who was with him after all. The darkness wasn't usually a big deal. Ever since he had that nightmare that he failed to remember, he had been more sensitive.

Sitting on the edge of his bed, hair a bit damp from bathing, Haruka held that concerned expression he had been wearing ever since their train ride home. “Makoto,” he said. Even in the dark, his eyes shone brightly with worry.

“I’m fine,” Makoto assured with a smile. He slipped into the bed next to Haruka, who laid down on his side so he could further observe the taller man. “Goodnight.”

Haruka half-heartedly replied, “…Goodnight.”

Whether he was dreaming or hallucinating Makoto didn’t know.

He found himself in the changeless port town he had grew up in, with its bundling houses that hid the ground from the sun. Makoto moved just to make sure he existed, to make sure he was himself. He curled his toes only to feel sand, only to find out he was by the sea. The sound of waves terrified him. They were so close. Somehow they were more violent, and the night was illogically too dark he couldn’t see the waters, nor the moonlight that should be shining upon it. Not a single lantern was lit as ferocity lapped the ocean. And towards that ferocity someone else walked.

Within the dark, Makoto’s eyes made out what appeared to be like the bride of the sea, with hair as dark as the night and skin as pale as pearls. He stumbled and prodded into the wet sands. What was a person doing there? It was too dangerous. Makoto didn’t reach the shore, not even greeted by the beckoning waves.

And he realized.

He couldn’t breathe.

He was underwater.

Looking up frantically, he saw that the surface was too far and he tried to swim up, desperately swinging his arms. And everything was black and he couldn’t see anything but the surface and the rippled moon that suddenly decided to appear, its mocking light gazing down on him. He wanted to see how far he had gone and so he looked below him.

He was almost out of breath when he saw Haruka sinking towards an inescapable pit of black, motionless, life being sucked out of him. And what killed Makoto wasn’t the water, it was his hesitation to save Haruka. It didn’t matter that he still swam down again to rescue the person he needed more than air itself. What mattered was the hesitation, that tiny but torturous feeling of hesitation. It might have lasted for a second. But it killed him because he actually had to stop and think if he would save him.

The waters began their murmuring, mocking him as he hysterically swam and reeled towards Haruka who was quickly being dragged down by the darkness. He called him but it was scornfully subdued by the sea. Wishing and praying Haruka would wake up and swim his way back to the surface, Makoto reached out his hand.

But he was already out of breath.

He was out of breath but he needed to get Haruka. “Stop…!” He shouted out, bubbles and wavelets coming out from his mouth instead of a wakening voice. And slowly Haruka disappeared into the obscurity, into the bottomless ocean. He wished for nothing but for the water to stop dragging Haruka down.

“Haru—!”

Makoto was sitting up now, realizing he had just screamed from the top of his lungs and woke up from a poisoned, asphyxiating dream. Shifting toward the edge of the bed and blinking profusely in restlessness, Makoto wiped the sweat off his temples. Beside him was Haruka who was roused from his sleep. And while he panted and gasped for air that was absent from his nightmare, Haruka immediately clutched onto his back, his coiled forearms almost crushing Makoto’s stomach.

“Haruka?” Makoto whispered his name weakly in surprise, feeling a little apologetic for waking him up. But the other didn’t speak, instead he tightened his hold. Makoto looked back and saw he was still lying on his side, hips bent just so he could wrap his arms around his wide body.

He needed him so much closer.

So he crawled back to bed and laid down, facing Haruka, one cheek against the pillow. They remained like that in the darkness, Makoto’s heart still racing with adrenaline. Haruka looked troubled, causing Makoto to laugh a little. He could tell Haruka was thinking of something to soothe his uneasiness, to make him forget of the nightmare. Because he couldn’t purge the possibility of having another nightmare, Makoto kept his eyes open, afraid to fall asleep.

It was then Haruka inched his way up with his shoulders, and Makoto could only watch in curiosity. But he knew right away when Haruka cradled his skull, pressing Makoto’s face to his chest. Green eyes widened and gleamed.

“I’m a dreamcatcher,” Haruka claimed like a child, earning a soundless chuckle from Makoto. Was he trying to comfort him? If he was, it was working. He loved it when Haruka would say the most unexpected things. “It’s supposed to keep nightmares away if you hang them above your head.”

His stomach fluttered. Haruka was being too adorable. He couldn’t describe how thankful he was. “Really, now?”

Taking Makoto’s words as mockery, he heard Haruka groan and then playfully—but powerfully—tossed a leg over Makoto’s waist. And it had hurt enough that Makoto had to ask him to stop. But at the second Haruka loosened his grip, he shifted slowly so he could pull Makoto closer into his arms while Makoto pushed himself against the other’s torso, snuggling up to his calming heartbeat contentedly.

There was no doubt about it. Makoto realized. He’d die for him. He wasn’t himself in that dream, and he wondered how he could hesitate saving someone as precious as Haruka. It was just a dream. A horrible, horrible dream.

“I’ll be your dreamcatcher tonight, so…” Haruka promised him, cradling his head like a baby. Makoto could feel Haruka’s lips move against his hair as he snaked his arms around the smaller man’s waist. The rising and falling of his chest calmed Makoto so much, that he found his eyelids closing involuntarily. He heard Haruka speak again before planting a sweet kiss on his forehead, “…you can go to sleep. It’s okay now.”

There was such love and tenderness in Haruka’s words, the way his voice lifted the air in the dark; the way his lips open and close in what seemed like slow motion. And Makoto slept peacefully the whole night, Haruka cradling him with silent lullabies and touches, successfully excavating Makoto’s deepest, most poisonous thoughts, dispelling them like how a dreamcatcher would.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This wasn't supposed to happen lol I just happened to watch something about dreamcatchers and got inspired to write. 
> 
> Thanks for the comments! I really appreciate it~!


	7. Underwater

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> There is a pool involved.

Just as Haruka expected, the college swim club wasn’t just an ordinary swim club. Out of breath and basically wheezing after climbing out of the pool, Haruka watched as the swimmers dived in with perfect forms. Watching them was enough for Haruka to think Rin’s former swim team were for twelve-year-olds. Suddenly thinking about Rin made him wonder if his training in Australia was this tiring. It must be worse.

“Nanase!” An upperclassman called out as the guy climbed up from the water. Haruka heard his voice resonate throughout indoor pool. “Get my towel, would ya?”

He hated this social hierarchy. He never took advantage of it when he was a senior in high school because he felt it was stupid that a person just a year older could do whatever they wanted. Now, he was considered as the new guy. Creasing his brows and narrowing his eyes, he raised his tired body to stand up and walked grumpily to the locker room.

When he first tried out for the team, he was almost immediately rejected when he monotonously claimed, “I only swim freestyle.” Although his intentions were innocent, he sounded cocky to the upper years that one of their fastest swimmers challenged him to a race. Makoto was with him and tried to appease the situation by apologizing but was too late when Haruka was already on the starting platform. Haruka never backed down on a challenge. He could say he was just as competitive as Rin, but a little less hot-blooded.

It was only a split second. But Haruka won.

Half of the upperclassmen were in awe, but some, just like the guy he just defeated, held a grudge against him. Haruka could still feel it even on his second week of club activities. Along with the other new blood, the seniors loved to stress them with odd jobs. And whenever it was Haruka’s turn to swim, he was forced to perform the most exhausting routines.

And there he thought college students were more mature.

“Tachibana ain’t coming today?” the same guy who asked for his towel asked. He was just a year above Haruka, taking Business Ad, but he wasn’t quite sure. Haruka didn’t bother remembering. Not even the guy’s full name. Was he Uchida?

Haruka couldn’t speak for a second with the mention of Makoto's name. “He’ll be here this afternoon.”

Even though it was Makoto who invited him to join, he hardly ever came to practice. It wasn’t as if he wasn’t interested. He had afternoon classes while Haruka got dismissed every two-thirty. And Makoto’s only available time was during weekends or his short afternoon break every other day.

“Let’s have a timeout everybody,” the club’s captain declared from afar, whistling to catch everyone’s attention. A group of synchronized sighs were heard and the sounds of splashing water stopped as soon as the people climbed out of the pool and it disgusted Haruka how the members of the club were relived to get out of the water.

Haruka always waited for that certain lunch break. Everyone was out of the pool and he could swim as much as he wanted without anyone ordering him around like a slave. He was about to dive in to the pool alone when he was confronted by a rare species—a kind upperclassman.

“You wanna eat with us, Nanase?”

“No. I’ll… just stay here,” Haruka declined the offer as kindly as he could, uncertain whether the cockiness in his monotone voice was still seeping through. To make sure, he added, “Thank you, though.”

The senior just laughed and nodded his head, waving a hand at him, “Okay, see you later, man.”

“Yeah.”

As soon as the last member got out of the building and turned the lights off, Haruka didn’t waste a second and dived right into the pool, head first with no goggles. And then he heard it; the sweet, familiar sound of being underwater. Soft laps of bubbles clouded his eyes before he could see the pool floor. When the pristine blue waters calmed just as Haruka’s mind regained tranquility, he let himself sink, unmoving, but still conscious, letting the water cling to his skin.

Just as he thought, the pool was better than any body of water. It wasn’t as deep as the sea, wasn’t as powerful as the ocean, and wasn’t as superstitious as a lake. The water beckoned him to move and finally when he was out of breath, swam to the surface. And again he saw the dim, empty surroundings as he swam, gliding gracefully through the Olympic-sized swimming pool. There was no need for him to use his arms and hands as he elegantly slithered underneath the water.

It was pointless joining the swim club without Makoto, Haruka thought, subconsciously eyeing the entrance, waiting for the young man to come in. He used to like swimming alone, but ever since the formation of his high school swim club, Makoto’s sentimentality towards swimming slowly started to rub off on him.

He glared at the gates again.

Even without being underwater, he felt like drowning without him.

Then he held his breath and descended, resurfaced, and descended again, swimming a little before coming back up to get a grasp of air. He lost track of time. Again, he let himself sink underwater. Opening his eyes, he could only see the lights fixed on the pool floor, somehow reminding him of the path of moonlight under the ocean, a spectacle he could never see in a pool. So Haruka swayed drowsily, hoping, wishing, that an ocean would find its way to him.

The moment before Haruka could close his eyes, the serenity of the water disappeared as a loud but muffled splash resounded around him like the sharp waves of the sea. Haruka met eyes with the ocean. Rather than sparkling blue, the ocean that disrupted his loneliness had eyes that reminded him of the gentle cadence of spring.

Straight from the earth and onto the shore, Makoto reached out to him. Haruka’s mind tried to reconcile that Makoto was underwater with him, that it wasn’t the ocean, but Makoto. And it was better that way. He couldn’t find out how Makoto would magically appear during his most lonesome moments. But he was there and he couldn’t ask for more.

Words were something elective when it came to the two of them. It didn’t take long before they spoke without a sound and Haruka waited. He closed his eyes and waited, because he knew Makoto would hold him and tug him closer for a kiss.

Now, the man he thought initially as the ocean, breathed love onto his mouth, his fingers curled warily around his waist. And it amazed him how much they seemed to want each other even underwater. Sinking further in the midst of the deep pool, Makoto hoisted their bodies up with a kick, never breaking the contact of their lips. Almost breathless, none of them wanted to go up for air, catching each other’s breath instead. Haruka dug his fingers into Makoto’s hair to pull him closer. He opened his mouth to let out a tortured moan, eventually losing his breath.

Haruka resurfaced, desperately gasping for air. He became conscious that he was in the deepest part of the pool and he could no longer feel the bottom with his feet. But he floated almost effortlessly. A second after, Makoto’s head popped out of the water, just as breathless. He didn’t say anything, which surprised Haruka to some extent. The whites behind Haruka's blue eyes was beginning to redden because of the chlorine, so Makoto swam an inch closer and kissed his eyelids, then the corner of his mouth second, then his lips, breathing an instance of Haruka’s name as he ventured further. He kissed him to within an inch of his life.

“Haru,” Makoto sighed his name between each open-mouthed kiss, his voice low and raspy. Pulling away was the last thing on Haruka's mind, but he needed to breathe. Haruka pulled himself away and panted as he kicked his legs to keep afloat.

“Makoto,” he breathed out in return, feeling familiar arms curving around his waist and tugging him closer. He wanted to dissolve into the water when he made eye contact. He turned his head to the side, his face red. “You’re late.”

“Sorry,” Makoto said ruefully against the other’s lips, kissing him again, shyly tracing the insides of Haruka’s mouth with his tongue. Haruka was surprised Makoto was on the offensive side this time.

Holding each other close, Haruka found it harder to float on the water. And so he dropped all his weight on Makoto, arms circling his neck and legs bending around the other's waist, still not taking his lips off him. They sunk for a second but Makoto managed to pull them up again. And with every push and kiss, they kept sinking and resurfacing, their buoyant bodies helping them stay on the surface of the pool. Haruka could no longer distinguish whether the dampness in his mouth was saliva or pool water. He didn’t really mind, letting himself melt with a kiss far from gentle. In the middle of it all, he noticed Makoto was having a tough time to keep their heads above water level, so Haruka pushed the taller man’s shoulders down and continued below.

His green eyes appeared aquamarine in the water. And his eyes were all he needed to know that Makoto loved him deeply enough that the ocean would be jealous. Together, they heard the words “I love you”. There was no sound. Not even a single noise. But it was definitely there, reverberating underwater.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Classes were suspended because of a typhoon so I slept all day and woke up at 12am then started typing stuff. I just wanted a lovely scenario involving a pool so I ended up writing this lol.
> 
> I'd love to know what you think, though! Thanks for reading~!


	8. Smartphone

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Because flip-phones are so last year.

Up until now, Haruka’s habit of forgetting to bring his cellphone never died out. This led them into relying on their telepathic abilities to predict when and where they would meet up— which didn’t quite work most of the time. And judging from the quietness of Makoto’s cellphone, he was convinced that either Haruka had forgotten his phone again or had at least forgotten to charge the battery.

Sending him another text, Makoto let out a frustrated sigh. They were supposed to eat dinner together that day, but with Haruka unresponsive over the phone, they might have to cancel.

“You’re still using that old thing? Why don’t you buy a smartphone instead?”

Although Makoto thought it was an interesting suggestion, it felt terrible to have his sturdy green phone disrespected in front of him. It never really crossed his mind to buy a new one, not when his old cellphone was working just fine. What made a smartphone smart anyway? Makoto could never understand the fad behind it, although the majority of the city dwellers and college students used one. Among his friends, he was the only one using a mobile phone. That was already a sign he was behind the times.

"Really? What's wrong with my phone?"

"Those things are for high schoolers."

As he was someone who tolerated being washed away by the torrents of current trends, he thought about buying one. There were cheap ones in the market, especially nowadays when new editions and units got released unappropriately every month. He had some money saved for personal expenses and the curious desire to own one. Now Makoto wasn’t that materialistic, but he could easily get swayed by his friends from time to time on trivial things.

When he got home that day, Haruka was already there, as expected, even bothering to make dinner for the both of them. It wasn't unusual. They resolved the problem of waiting for each other unwisely inside the campus by letting Haruka keep a duplicate key, just in case he still wanted to hang out with Makoto. It was a relief his parents were perfectly fine with Haruka spending so much time at Makoto’s. Ever since then, Makoto would often times be greeted with a charming, “Welcome home.”

As much as Makoto wanted him to stay frequently, Haruka’s schoolwork was beginning to pile up with plate preparations and completing studio credits, therefore developing the tendency to panic whenever he stayed too late in Makoto’s place. And Makoto was too much of a worrywart especially when it came to Haruka, so he sometimes didn't let Haruka stay over for too long.

Makoto hadn’t realized the softness of his eyes as he eyed Haruka separating the fish meat from the bones. He smiled unknowingly. It was such a nice sight having to eat dinner with him, something they could only do for a limited time. Green eyes watched him as he stuck his chopsticks to his mouth. Makoto had to manually stop himself from looking too much and shook his head. Haruka arely began their coversations, but either way they talked as they ate, though Haruka only nodded and replied one-syllable words most of the time. The sounds coming from a smartphone commercial filled the air when silence prevailed the room.

“I’m thinking of buying a phone.” Makoto timidly declared, stopping his chopsticks in midair as an Apple commercial flashed from the television.

The gleam in Haruka’s eyes judged both him and the commercial as he slowly chewed on his food. “You already have one.”

“My friends suggested buying a smartphone.” Makoto could see the disinterest glinting from Haruka’s eyes. Over the years, Makoto noticed that Haruka had trouble dealing with technology. For him, it would probably be troublesome having to learn to use a new one. “It’d be a good change.”

Swallowing his food before speaking, Haruka asked with a curious tone, “Smartphone?”

“Hm…” Makoto hummed in thought and looked at the ceiling, trying to come up with an explanation. “It’s kind of a—I don’t know, a _smarter_ phone? It’s all touchscreen and stuff.”

Although Haruka held a ‘that-sounds-stupid’ face whenever Makoto tried to defend the baffling appeal of smartphones, and failing miserably with every vague account of its features, he still went with Makoto to Akihabara the next day to look for one.

Makoto had never seen people shop as much as the people in Tokyo did. Crowds surged through the streets, malls, and department stores like it was an everyday thing, and he was convinced shopping was one of the young people’s favorite pastimes.

It was a Saturday and the surroundings were packed with window-shoppers and trendsetters. Even without buying anything thus far, Makoto thought it was rather informative just by walking along the country’s most popular electronics district, with all the gadgetry and whatnot. While Makoto held a positive aura, Haruka didn’t look too pleased. Makoto noticed this straightaway and stayed close to him, as he knew places like Akihabara would provoke a certain uneasiness for Haruka.

 “You didn’t have to come with me,” the man in an olive flannel shirt chided almost repentantly.

Haruka answered only with a sidelong glance as he walked beside him. With his implicit responses, he didn’t seem too impassive, so Makoto could only guess that Haruka wasn’t that regretful of coming with him. Besides, Haruka needed to go out more. He only went out of his house to go to school or to Makoto’s place, which wasn’t very healthy. He was only willing to go out when they go swimming. Pool access was one of the few reasons he joined the club. So during his free time, Haruka would use his privileges as a swim team member to use the pool. Often times Makoto would come with him, either forcefully or out of concern.

The air was becoming rather temperate when they browsed through the bustling shopping district. With a frank tone, Haruka spoke out, “They all look the same.”

“Hm?” Makoto chimed with inquiry and then chuckled at the comment. “You’re right. They do, huh?” There was no denying that the smartphones they had been scrutinizing over the past hour looked almost too identical with each other. “There’s no originality,” he heard Haruka say after they had inspected several units, which were mostly rectangular in shape and black in color. As someone as artistically thorough as Haruka, it wouldn’t be surprising to see him so appalled by the ingenuity of every smartphone they had seen.

Jumping from shop to shop in the technological haven that was Akihabara, they settled in inside a somewhat large-scale shop with various smartphones to choose from. The price range was also very average. Once inside, Makoto showed Haruka a white-colored smartphone he was likely interested at. “How about this one?”

The phone seemed normal-sized against Makoto’s long, knotted fingers, because when Haruka held it, the phone’s size drastically changed. Makoto noticed that Haruka had to stretch his hands to actually seize the phone securely.

“What do you think? Too big?” Makoto asked. He valued Haruka’s opinion more greatly than his, so he waited for the other’s personal response. Haruka had a knack for choosing stuff.

“I think it’s just right,” he said as he scrutinized the dummy phone model, looking less apathetic than he was an hour ago. “You have big hands, so the size won't be a problem.”

Before Makoto could buy it, the employees suggested to let him test a new stock first. Haruka looked at it like it was some form of wizardry when Makoto fiddled around with it. And it was adorable how his steely blue eyes widen with every new feature it utilized. Unlike the other phones, Makoto’s chosen one was white, and had rounded edges with a burning bright display. It was also made from Korea, even having a stylus pen included with it, which Makoto needed because of his large fingerprints.

Click.

Haruka blinked several times before he noticed that Makoto had already taken a photo of him.

“Haru, your eyes look so wide here.” Makoto laughed, covering his mouth with the back of his hand. The picture of Haruka that he took was too adorable, his eyes shining with interest as if there was a pool in front of him, his head tilted sideways at him with shoulders relaxed and calm. The innocence of Haruka’s expression was too beautiful Makoto had to stop himself from staring at it. But when he looked away from the picture to see the real Haruka, the eyes were no longer wide and were now rather squinting, lips pursed in embarrassment.

“Delete it.”

“Huh? But—”

“I said delete it,” Haruka said more strongly as he tried to pry the phone away from Makoto’s grasp, and failing awesomely at it. His face was starting to redden and Makoto couldn’t think of anything but Haruka’s adorable embarrassed expression. It didn't take much effort for Makoto as he only needed to raise his arms up until Haruka couldn't reach it. Before the smaller man could further protest, Makoto snapped another picture.

He warned with a dark look, “Makoto.”

“Fine, fine, I’ll delete it,” Makoto surrendered, but since Haruka wasn’t really that technologically literate, he didn’t actually delete the picture. Haruka looked convinced he got rid of it though.

Haruka could only glare at him. “How can you already know how to use that thing? It’s been five minutes since you bought it!”

The other simply beamed at him. “It’s surprisingly easy to use.”

The employees smiled endearingly at both of them as they went out of the store. Feeling content and delighted, Makoto couldn’t help but smile for the rest of the day. They had to sit down somewhere because of his enthusiasm to explore his new phone. Haruka’s indifference towards smartphones quickly disappeared as he scooted closer to Makoto’s face while they played around with it. Makoto could tell he was interested in it as much as he was, and he smiled at Haruka’s quick change of heart.

As Makoto was trying to type words with the touchscreen keyboard, he muttered, “It’s a shame we won’t have matching phones anymore.”

The severe change in Haruka’s eyes went unnoticed by Makoto, who was too captivated with his smartphone. So it surprised him when Haruka suddenly stood up.

Makoto got out of his seat as well when Haruka was about to walk away. “Haru! Where are you going?”

Not stopping, Haruka said, “Stay here.”

Makoto couldn't do anything but obey. Maybe he went to the bathroom? But Haruka had just gone there minutes ago. Makoto assumed Haruka bought food or a drink, since he left his bag but not his wallet. It took him a while to realize Haruka backtracked to the shop where they had bought the phone. And Makoto started to worry because somehow he knew what Haruka wanted to do. He wasn't a hundred percent sure, but he had a slight idea.

So when the young man came back with a shopping bag similar to Makoto’s, he couldn’t help but feel suspicious. He eyed the paper bag and gulped. “Haru, don’t tell me…”

“I bought one.”

Makoto blinked his eyes before speaking. He asked, even though he already knew, “Bought… what?”

“A smartphone.”

 _Unbelievable_.

He knew Haruka more than he knew himself but his unpredictable nature never failed to surprise him.

“Haru! What are you thinking?! Where did you get the money to buy this?!” Makoto panicked. He didn’t know why exactly, but he panicked. Smartphones were not cheap. They were expensive and people didn’t just go around and impulsively go and buy one. But Haruka was a different case.

“I used my mom’s credit card.”

That really didn’t make Makoto feel better. “You shouldn’t just _use_ your mom’s credit card like that!”

Haruka sat down and unpacked the box as he sat down, just beside Makoto who had just stood up in panic. “It’s fine. They’ve been wanting to buy me one since I came here anyway.”

“But why buy one all of a sudden?” Makoto felt a sudden surge of uneasiness when Haruka glared at him as if he was the densest element on earth. “Eh? Is something wrong?”

Haruka just let out a dismayed sigh and showed him the phone he had just bought. "Look."

Makoto stared at what Haruka flashed it in front of him. “It’s the same model as mine…”

It was the same phone up until the very last curve; white, rounded edges, and a size too huge for Haruka's smaller hands. It took a minute before Makoto realized that they had matching phones again. And it took another set of minutes to realize why Haruka bought one. He couldn't help but smile.

When Monday came, Makoto’s friends were all too happy to see him with a new smartphone. Makoto knew Haruka never liked calling, or texting, or anything associated with phones. But since he bought himself a smartphone, he had been using it more often, and would sometimes ask Makoto for help. And during lunch Makoto received a text from Haruka, something of a rare occurrence. All Makoto did was laugh. Haruka was too cute. He decoded Haruka’s text as ‘are we still going for pizza later’ but the characters were all jumbled up that it was almost incomprehensible. His text was full of mistakes and he wondered if it was due to the new keypad. Ever since then, Makoto took the responsibility of calling instead of texting.

And ever since then, Haruka never forgot his phone.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I typed this up while in school using my ~wow you guessed it~ smartphone. Also inside an FX. Very casual mundane chapter. Hopefully I'd write a better one. Thanks for reading! Sorry for the late update, I'll try to update every weekend~


	9. Forget

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Haruka 'forgets' his things in Makoto's apartment.

At seven in the morning, Makoto was woken up by the shrill ringing of his phone. The room remained dark, thick curtains covering the solitary window just above the headboard. The phone lighted up his surroundings, and it took quite an effort to force his eyes open, which were still too heavy. It felt like his eyes were glued together. In one swift slide of his thumb, he answered the call, not bothering to read the name of the caller.

“…Hello?” he said dazedly. 

“Makoto,” he heard the other line speak. The whispery, soothing voice was enough to snap his sleepy eyes to open. He was about to call his name when the other continued, “I think I left my textbook at your place.”

“Textbook?” Makoto repeated. Haruka had left so many things in his house that there were too many to remember. He sat up on his bed before completely standing up, pressing the phone between his ears and shoulders as he put on some decent pants. “Wait, let me check.”

He glided the curtains away to let some light in. He had to close his eyes shut again because of the sudden brightness. He didn’t even had time to stretch. Makoto observed the room before kneeling in front of a pile of books; all of which were owned by Haruka. He narrowed his eyes at them.

“Haru, you left _all_ your textbooks here.”

“Oh, really.” His tone wasn’t even close to a question. Haruka didn’t sound surprised at all.

With his broad, white phone against his ear, Makoto skimmed the mountain of books. “Which one is it?”

It took a second or so before Haruka replied, “The one with the blue cover. I need it after lunch.”

There was only one book with a blue cover, so Makoto assumed he held the correct one. It read ‘ _Art History_ ’ in bold, capitalized letters with a superficially bluish abstract painting as its backdrop. “Want me to bring it to you later?”

“…Is it alright?”

Haruka didn’t even need to doubt him. “Yeah. I’ll come over to your building at lunch.” Makoto stood up and tossed the book to the bed so as to remind himself to bring it. It was a pretty heavy, for an art history book to say the least. Haruka was silent for a long while, so Makoto took the chance to stretch, his muscles clenching when he extended his arms upwards, groaning, then pushed his neck side to side.

“I’m guessing we won’t get to meet this morning,” Makoto said, somewhat dismayed, but still kept a smile even though Haruka couldn’t see it. He seemed to always smile when Haruka was involved. Both of their morning classes started at nine, and if they woke up early enough, they would often eat breakfast together at some coffee shop near the university, or buy some pre-lunch snacks at the grocery store if they ever come across one.

“I need to be early at school today.”

“Catching up on plates?”

“Yeah.”

It was just ten minutes past seven when Makoto prepared for school. He stretched again before heading to the bathroom, then shivered when the morning draft kicked in. Makoto had no shirt on, so goose bumps popped out from his arms and back. Hurrying to the bathroom, he grabbed his toothbrush, which was next to another toothbrush.

He raised an eyebrow. “Why did you leave your toothbrush here? How are you supposed to—!”

“It’s an extra. I have another one here.” Makoto's concerns seemed endless.

Brushing his teeth, then spitting the foamy residue afterwards, Makoto spoke, “So, are you still home?” He looked at himself in the mirror; bed hair, green eyes still a bit drowsy. From the corner of his eye, he could see two towels on the rack. Haruka must’ve left it as well.

The other line didn’t speak. When Makoto figured he’d lost Haruka, he said warily, “Haru? Still there?”

“Yeah.” Haruka stopped for a moment. “Why aren’t you hanging up?”

“Well,” Makoto said as he stripped, preparing to get into the shower. “Why aren’t you?”

“…Don’t you have anything else to say?” Haruka’s voice sounded as if he was pouting; it was soft and had the right amount of shyness. So it wasn’t at all surprising that Makoto already knew what to say.

He stopped what he was doing and laughed softly. “I love you. See you later?” Then there was a sequence of beeps. Haruka had hung up immediately after. And Makoto couldn’t help but smile.

After a quick shower and accidentally using Haruka’s shampoo, Makoto dressed up, making sure to wear something light, since his smartphone’s weather app predicted that it would be 29 degrees outside. He dressed himself first with denim pants, then clad on a blue shirt he randomly grabbed from the dresser, but noticed it was too small. It couldn’t even let his arm through the hole. It took him a second to figure out that it was Haruka’s shirt and slid it off. Taking a peek at his drawers, his eyes narrowed at the ridiculous amount of clothes Haruka had left. So making sure it was his and not Haruka’s, he put on a gray, three-quarter sleeve shirt and headed to the kitchen.

He then prepared a simple breakfast—‘simple’ because he couldn’t really cook any decent meals even if he wanted to, unless Haruka was there with him of course. He was about to put on an apron until he noticed that the only apron hanging was blue. He didn’t have a blue apron. Did Haruka forget his apron, too? Shrugging the subject off, he proceeded with breakfast. A few moments later, he came strolling back into the bedroom.

On the floor, Haruka’s textbooks mingled crudely with his own books, which reminded him of the textbook Haruka called him about. He tossed the said book into his backpack before closing the windows and turning the lights off.

Makoto’s apartment had a traditional entryway just like his old home, so all of his shoes were on the recessed tiled part of the entrance. He was about to put on some sandals before spotting three pairs of shoes that weren’t his. There were two pairs of sneakers; one violet and one black, and another pair of beige loafers.

They were Haruka’s shoes. Makoto closed his eyes and sighed soundlessly. Thinking about it, Haruka might as well lived with him if he kept leaving his things behind. It was eight when he left the house and headed to the university.

As soon as lunch hour came, Makoto rushed to the Fine Arts building to meet up with Haruka. He often got lost in Haruka’s campus, but there were students who were more than willing to help him out. Makoto was, after all, quite good-looking, even if he himself wasn’t aware of it. His height was only a bonus feature.

When Makoto stepped foot into the campus cafeteria, he had already fallen in love with it. For some reason, there were a lot of chocolates and desserts on the menu. It was a lovely sunny day so the glass sunroof of the cafeteria really brought in ample warmth. There was no doubt about it. Makoto wouldn’t mind eating lunch there every day.

Haruka spotted him first, who was sitting alone on a sleek rectangular table.

“You’re going to have a hard time if you keep forgetting your books at my house,” Makoto said as he sat down across the dark-haired boy and dropped the heavy textbook on the table.

“Thanks,” Haruka said, ignoring Makoto’s first remark. The other just sighed.

Makoto, eyeing Haruka’s untouched lunch and another tray of food in front of him, asked, “You haven’t eaten yet?”

“I was waiting for you,” Haruka said, then glanced at the second tray. “I already got you lunch.”

“Ah, sorry for the trouble…” Makoto’s green eyes stared at the oddly-shaped tray Haruka offered him. A large plate of curry rice took most of the space. There was a glass of chocolate parfait beside a slice of cake, then finally a plate of pizza. “It’s a little too much though…”

“…”

Haruka didn’t speak. But when Makoto noticed the flicker of guilt behind his blue eyes, he quickly added, “But I’ll eat it all, so…!” He hastily grabbed a spoon. “Thank you, Haru.”

He kept quiet and simply flashed Makoto a knowing look. He smiled at him and began to eat. As he ate the delicious lunch Haruka picked for him, he detected some looks coming from the other students. It must be because he was a new face. The table next to them had three girls looking at him. They looked like seniors. It made Makoto a little nervous.

“Is something wrong?” Makoto snapped his head back to Haruka, who was about to bite into his pizza. He must’ve looked bothered for Haruka to ask.

“I just noticed that there’s a lot of women in your campus.”

The one-second glint of jealousy that lapsed into Haruka’s darkening eyes was enough for Makoto to feel bad. “Uh, no, sorry. They’ve been looking at me and it’s a little… troubling.”

So Haruka did what he had to do; he equipped his most frightening stare and glared at the ladies who were watching them. Needless to say, it worked, and they were too uncomfortable to steal another glance.

Lunch time was over and both of them still had lectures afterwards. Standing up and flinging one strap of his backpack over his shoulder, Makoto asked hopefully, “Are you coming over today?”

“Don’t I always?”

Makoto laughed softly and smiled. “Shouldn’t have asked.”

It was tough trying to go home together. Haruka could go home seven hours earlier than Makoto since his classes were only up to two-thirty, while Makoto had to stay until nine. It didn’t seem fair, but Makoto’s course was much more rigorous, so the long hours were not surprising.

Night finally came. Makoto took off his shoes as soon as he got home, and placed them right next to Haruka’s forgotten sneakers. He let out a tired, “I’m home.” There was no reply, so he thought maybe Haruka was too busy to come over. But just as he figured Haruka wouldn’t visit, the young man appeared out of nowhere, wearing the apron he had supposedly forgotten as well.

“Welcome home.”

Makoto responded with an honest smile. Somehow, Haruka saying ‘welcome home’ seemed to always calm his nerves. “I thought you weren’t coming.”

Haruka just blinked at him. “I cooked dinner.”

First lunch, and now dinner. Haruka seemed to be spoiling him today. Makoto followed Haruka into the dining area after changing into some slippers. He could already smell the food Haruka prepared. It smelled like fish. There was a part of Makoto that wished it wasn’t mackerel again.

“It’s salmon,” Haruka guaranteed, which seemed to coincide with Makoto’s thoughts.

Haruka took off the apron when they were about to eat, revealing the shirt he was wearing. It was definitely oversized. And Makoto started to wonder.

“…Haru, that’s my shirt,” Makoto pointed out hesitantly.

“Yeah,” Haruka said, hanging the apron on the wall. With one raised eyebrow, he added with a tinge of mischief, “Why? You don’t want me wearing it?”

“I-It’s not that...” His face was reddening and Makoto could tell the other was amused. Haruka could wear them any time he wanted to. He had let him do it ever since they were kids. “You left a lot of clothes here. I thought you might want to wear them instead.”

Haruka frowned and didn’t comment further, his shoulders suddenly drooping as he sat down. Wordlessly, he began to eat ahead of Makoto, who hadn’t quite settled in. He seemed cross, but Makoto wasn’t sure. Once dinner was done, Haruka offered to wash the dishes, but Makoto wouldn’t let him, so they just cleaned up together.

“Your towel’s in the rack if you want to take a bath,” Makoto offered. He could already tell Haruka was staying overnight. They took turns in taking a shower, then headed to bed.

Haruka already sat on the bed, his hair already dry. He was wearing one of Makoto’s shirts again. Makoto sat on the floor, right next to the edge of the bed so as to let Haruka dry his hair with a towel. He let out a low sigh of laugh as he caught sight of Haruka’s pile of textbooks.

“It’s feels nice, having you here,” Makoto confessed out of the blue, letting himself relax while Haruka dried his hair.

“…” He couldn’t see Haruka’s face, but Makoto guessed he was too embarrassed to speak. He didn’t waste any more time and climbed onto the bed.

Makoto laid on his back as he let Haruka drape half of his body on top of him; he could feel his dark hair tickling his neck. He unconsciously ran his long finger through Haruka’s tresses. With slight desperation, Makoto shifted to his side to selfishly embrace the other. Haruka was so familiar to him—the way his body moved and flinched, the smell of chlorine... He would go as far as to say he was familiar of his heartbeat.

Haruka must’ve sensed something was off. “Makoto?”

“You leave a lot of stuff here.”

The corner of Haruka’s mouth quirked. He found himself pressing his body closer to Makoto. Hiding his own face in Makoto’s chest, Haruka breathed in deep before speaking, “I feel… more at home here.”

Makoto was surprised with his words. They could’ve laid in bed all night, just there, simple and honest, in each other’s presence and perfect in each other’s arms. Makoto looked down and gazed at the abashed features of the other, and realized he could imagine it perfectly just from sheer memory. He hoped he wouldn’t regret of what he would say next.

“I want to wake up next to you every day.”

His words had taken Haruka off guard, that it made him look up to meet his eyes, trying to discern if he was either lying or joking. He opened his mouth to speak, but somehow he was unable to yield any words. Makoto only pulled him closer.

“I want to make us breakfast then you’ll end up making it either way because I’ll burn it. So I’ll just wait and watch you cook. We’ll go to school together every morning. And I want to go home every night with you waiting for me, and sometimes you’ll be asleep when I get back, and that’s okay, ‘cause I’ll just kiss you goodnight and curl up next to you.”

He stopped, desperately trying to keep hold of himself. It wasn’t something Makoto decided by impulse. He had wanted to be with Haruka ever since they moved to the city. It was a selfish request. And Haruka might reject him. So he prepared for the worst.

“Okay.”

When their eyes met, he caught blue eyes glistening like stars.

“…What?”

“…Okay,” Haruka said again, his voice shaking this time.

Makoto drew in a sharp breath. He knew Haruka. He wouldn’t say anything if he didn’t meant it. Was it possible to fall in love with him all over again? He laughed before saying, “Considering you’ve already settled in, I think it wouldn’t take much time for you to move, huh?”

Haruka slightly smiled. Makoto could feel it, and he ducked his head to catch his smiling lips, then closed his arms around the other's waist. Haruka leaned forward after listening to his gentle voice, and listened to his heartbeat instead, beating loudly as if it would burst out of the young man’s chest. He shifted closer against Makoto’s body, unable to find the right words to say. He sank into the comfort of his embrace.

“So does this mean I can leave my textbooks here now?”

“Yeah,” Makoto smiled. “And you can wear every shirt I own."

"Anytime I want?"

"Up until the last one."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This was a little too long lol. Thanks for reading! Thank you so much for the comments and messages in tumblr!
> 
> I updated extra early for you bby. This is for my babe who's feeling a little under the weather. You know who you are ;D


	10. Home

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Haruka waits.

It was a little complicated for Haruka to explain his demands to his parents. Telling them he wanted to live with his best friend wasn't exactly as easy as he expected it to be. Two days ago, he accepted the fact that Makoto was speaking out of impulse, and he, too, answered back just as impulsively, but that didn’t necessarily mean that he wasn’t serious. The hard part came, and it was obvious his parents were already opposed to it, based on the apprehensive looks they made with each other. First of all, he was already living ten minutes away from the university, so it wouldn’t make much sense to move farther to Ichikawa when he was already in Shinjuku. Second, Makoto was supposedly still his best friend in the eyes of his family. Would it be more understandable if he was moving in with a girlfriend? Telling the truth was one of his considerations. It was one way to solve it. But Haruka had to chicken out on the last minute, since he wasn’t sure if Makoto would feel comfortable with it.

“So?”

Haruka looked up from his bowl of rice. “What?”

“Is there some kind of reason you want to move in with Makoto-kun?”

“It’s nothing special.” The inquisitive stares from his parents were enough to burn his skin. Haruka wished he had thought this out before telling them. His fingers holding the chopsticks were fidgeting and he hoped his mother wouldn’t notice. “We... used to talk about how we’re gonna live together when we go to college.”

His mother sat across him, his dad beside her. The house seemed too quiet and too large as they seemed to be giving it some thought. He watched how his mother’s face would change, trying to predict her next words based on her distinct facial expressions. He didn’t mind his father too much though, since he was just as straight-faced as he was, eating breakfast while listening. He was a difficult man to read.

“We have to talk to his parents first.” Haruka’s eyes lighted up a bit, his mother’s words seemingly like a spark of hope. “But are you sure you aren’t bothering Makoto-kun? He’s taking up Nursing isn’t he? I’m sure he’ll be too busy,” Haruka’s mother asked with concern.

“I help him with schoolwork often.”

“He goes home late at night, doesn’t he? It must be tiring.” She stopped to take a bite of broiled mackerel. “Do you often wait for him? Your classes end at two. That’s a seven hour difference.”

Yes, he waited for him. Sometimes a little too much. Haruka pressed his lips again, eyeing his mother’s broiled fish. It was a good thing he inherited his mother’s tastes in food and cooking skills. “I have swim practice after school.”

“Ah, yes, that’s right.”

The young man noticed they were getting off topic. He looked straight into her eyes that was just as blue and asked, “Well? Can I move to his place?”

“Well,” she copied his words before taking a sip from her green tea. She already had lipstick on, so a red mark lingered on the edge of the cup. Her hands touched her cheek in contemplation. She giggled softly before saying, “You’ve been together for as long as I can remember. I don’t see why I should separate you now.”

Haruka wasn’t sure if it was better for her mother to realize that there was this dangerous codependency existing between them, but he felt absolutely happy. He pursed his lips and tried to tone down the sparkle in his eyes. He spared one glance to his father, who didn’t look as pleased.

“You do realize you’re moving farther away from school, right? You’re relying too much on Makoto-kun. You know you’re going to have to go into separate ways in the future,” his father said suddenly, face unchanging aside from his chewing mouth. It seemed like Haruka got it wrong. It was actually his father who realized their strange attachment to each other—which was kind of worse.

The boy gulped down the lump of insecurity in his throat. He was hurt. Because his father had a point. He hadn’t thought of what would happen after college. Would Makoto still want him around? Would he _himself_ still want Makoto around? Just as he realized he was asking the most absurd questions, he found the need to mentally punch himself. He shouldn’t even had these kinds of doubts.

His mother clicked her tongue and rebuked her husband’s words. “Nonsense. They’re best friends since kindergarten. Didn’t you live with your friends throughout college?”

Haruka’s father rolled his eyes and sighed in submission. “Alright, alright… But we’re calling his parents first. If they’re against it, then it can’t be helped. There’s still rent to talk about.”

Nodding his head almost too unreservedly, Haruka couldn’t help the small smile finding its way to his lips. Makoto’s parents are too considerate to be against it. He breathed out the anxiety that was building up.

“Haru-chan, it’s almost eight. You should get ready for school,” the only woman in the room said, standing up as she cleared the table.

“Will you call them now?”

“Call—Oh, of course. I’ll call them after I finish this up.” His mother was already prepped up for work—hair done neatly, clad in light pinstripe blazer and skirt. But she still hurriedly washed the dishes as his father prepared to leave. Haruka offered to wash the dishes, but she just smiled and said to leave her be.

Haruka said before heading to his room, “I’m staying over at Makoto’s today.”

“Then make sure you bring him something like cake… or something like that, okay? You’re always at his place. It’s the least you can do before you move in,” he heard his mother say.

Haruka refused to leave the house without calling Makoto's parents. But the Tachibanas weren’t answering their calls that morning, and Haruka assumed they weren’t home. He had no choice but to head over to school while nervous anticipation welled up inside him. His mother promised to call him if she ever get the chance to talk with Makoto’s family.

School was just like any other day; normal and unexciting. If it was possible, somehow his classes were more tedious, art history and world literature were two of them. The lecture hall was small, and only a few students came to class. He looked around before grabbing his phone to send Makoto a text about his family. Several minutes later, there was still no reply. Makoto was the type to reply instantly so after receiving nothing for more than ten minutes, Haruka believed Makoto had forgotten his phone, or at least turned it off for some reason.

It wasn’t long until it was two-thirty. When the class got dismissed, he headed straight to the hallway, mentally preparing himself for swim practice.

“Hey, aren’t you Nanase? Nice to see you outside of the pool,” Haruka heard a voice say. He didn’t look up until he knew who it was. “So you’re an art student, huh? Is your class over?”

“Yeah…” he muttered. It was all he could assemble for the moment. He stared back to his upperclassman. Haruka only knew him by face. He was a swim team member, and judging from his student I.D he must be majoring in Sociology. That was probably why they were in the same building.

“Tachibana isn’t with you? What’s he taking?”

Somehow, even the swim team thought they were always a set. It was strange sight for them whenever Makoto wasn’t with him. “He’s in another building. He’s a nursing student.”

“Nursing? I wouldn’t have known!”

Makoto’s build often intimidated people. He usually came off as this manly, unapproachable athlete. And Haruka liked how people’s faces would stir up in confusion after actually talking to Makoto. It was a disadvantage for someone as friendly and gentle as him.

“By the way,” the sophomore said, before dashing off to his next class. “No swim practice today. The pool’s closed for cleaning.”

The words that came ringing through his ears felt like it could break his heart. His mind went numb for a brief moment before he noticed the upperclassman was gone, and the hallways were half-empty. The fact that he wouldn’t be able to swim today made his head hurt. This also meant having to wait seven whole hours for Makoto. Without swim practice, he’d have nothing to do. Haruka closed his eyes, sighing, his fingers grasping his bag tighter.

As a form of closure, Haruka still went to the indoor pool to check whether it was really closed. And it was, his heart breaking for the second time that day, the words ‘pool closed’ plastered on the entrance. He thought about going to Makoto’s place even though he wasn’t home yet. But Haruka hesitated. Because if he would go back now it wouldn’t be home, rather, he’d simply be going back to an apartment; a cold lonely building in Ichikawa. Because it wasn’t home without Makoto. Makoto was his home—with his lazy green eyes, his overly honeyed voice, his square shoulders, his somewhat shapely lips, his smile… His very entity was what Haruka considered as home.

But even so, Haruka had nowhere else to go but there. His parent’s house wasn’t an option. If he was going to wait, the ideal place would be in Makoto’s apartment. It took less than an hour to get there. With his cherished duplicate key, he easily got in. The lights were off and the curtains were all dropped, blocking any kind of light from going in from the windows.

There were two things he was waiting for; the first being his mother’s call, the second being Makoto. Haruka lit up the entire area and dropped his bag on the floor, letting himself sink in woe on the tatami flooring. He crawled to get his phone from his bag, trying to contact Makoto. And he realized that Makoto would never answer his calls as soon as he caught a glimpse of Makoto’s phone, left uncharged on the low table beside him.

 _Seven hours until he gets to come back home._ He thought over and over again. There was really nothing for him to do. He had no homework, no plates to finish, to sketches to be passed, so he did everything to waste time. He cooked whatever there was in the small fridge, mindlessly watched television, even though he never really cared about anything related to television. He even tried to read his boring textbooks, and afterwards drew with an unused charcoal pencil he found in his bag. He could’ve just played video games, but Makoto’s consoles were left in Iwatobi, and he remembered Makoto saying he’d get them during summer break.

Haruka walked on over to the terrace for some fresh air, only to be greeted by the mild cityscape. Buildings of average-height were stacked together, clear against the sky’s July gaze, burdened by a heavy four o’clock shadow. The terrace was facing the road, so it was easy to spot the people who passed by.

 _Four hours until he comes home._ He chanted repeatedly in his mind, fighting the afternoon sleepiness that was slowly drowning him. He was struggling to stay awake now as he let out a huge yawn. An afternoon nap wouldn’t be so bad. By the time he’d wake up, Makoto would probably be home already. “Few more hours…” Haruka muttered under his breath, falling asleep once his head hit the pillow.

It wasn't long until Haruka began to stir on the bed. He yawned and stretched as he woke. A knock on the door was exactly what Haruka wanted to wake up to. His surroundings were darker, so it must already be night. He stalked around the house and towards the entrance.

A slow smile formed on Haruka’s face. He waited seven hours for this. He turned the knob calmly.

And Makoto was at the door, all of him, complete with the green eyes and square shoulders and everything else. “I’m home,” he said, voice breathy and low. Despite being tired, he still wore this divine smile. Makoto must’ve sensed the urgency. He opened his arms.

Haruka didn’t waste a second to go into them.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Whoops. Title drop~ I update every weekend, unless I'm really really busy. I finally decided Makoto's major to be Nursing. It fits him so perfectly. (Trivia: There's no undergraduate program for Nursing in Waseda lol) Thank you for reading~


	11. Stay

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Haruka isn't feeling well.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> "furikake" is Japanese... rice... sprinkles. Idk man but I eat it with rice when there's no other food around.

It was a rarity for Makoto to come home before Haruka, and suddenly he knew how it would feel like waiting at home for someone. In between his short durations of trances and wandering thoughts, Makoto felt his stomach grumble. It was half past five. During this hour he would usually be still stuck in that stuffy classroom back in school, but there he was, alone in his apartment, hungry, and missing Haruka.

And his cooking. But mostly Haruka.

Standing up from his lazy sitting position on the couch, Makoto groaned idly as he walked into the kitchen that was only a few steps away. Cooking by himself was never a good idea and he knew that fact all too well. He would rather order take-outs or pizza than risk burning their home down. But it wasn’t like Makoto couldn’t cook. He could cook rice, and maybe fry eggs and not burn them fifty percent of the time. There was leftover rice when he checked the cooker. It looked edible, or so Makoto hoped.

But alas, after discovering there was some rice left, he learned that there was nothing left to cook. The sachets of _furikake_ Haruka would buy for him were absent from that familiar side in their fridge. There weren’t even eggs. And those were the second to the safest dairy product Makoto could handle. Having no _furikake_ nor eggs left was disheartening. And the fact that there were only frozen fish sleeping in their freezer was even more disheartening, aware that he couldn’t cook them by himself or without Haruka.

A sigh escaped from Makoto’s lips. Haruka would come home soon. Maybe he should just wait. A minute of watching television somehow encouraged Makoto to ask Haruka to go for a little grocery shopping.

Makoto smiled when Haruka answered in less than a second.

“What is it?” Haruka said from the other line. If Makoto wasn’t wrong, there was some tinge of worry in his voice—that seemed to be a little different. Hoarse, even.

“Uh, just want to ask if Haru could buy some eggs and _furikake_ before going home?” he said as sweetly as possible, though he didn’t need to, as his sweet voice was set as default when it comes to Haruka. "Is it okay?" He asked again. He could buy the groceries by himself. But convenience store prices are more mischievous than supermarkets

“Okay,” Haruka agreed. His voice really sounded strange. “I’m still in swim practice. I might be home late. You know you could’ve just texted me.”

“I know.” Makoto found himself smiling. He let his shoulder relax. “But somehow hearing your voice seems better.”

“…You're an idiot.”

“Hm? Haru, your voice seems different,” Makoto finally pointed out. Even when he was on the other side of telephone, he could feel it. He knew Haruka’s voice so well that even a delicate alteration was noticeable.

“Is that so?”

With every word Haruka spoke, Makoto grew worried. “You seem tired.”

“Just a little,” Haruka croaked with less energy. Makoto knew it took some effort for him to speak. “I need to go. I’ll be sure to buy _furikake_ for you. See you later.”

“Yeah, tha—” Haruka hung up before Makoto could take back his words, feeling bad for having Haruka buy some stuff when he sounded so worn-out. When he called again, Haruka never picked up, so he assumed he was already busy with swim practice. His worries worsened as he waited.

Makoto was stationed by the dining room frying his brains out with his Physiology homework when he heard Haruka enter, based on the ringing of keys and the slowness of Haruka’s footsteps he had grown so accustomed to. It was dark and the small lamp Makoto had posted next to him was the only source of light.

“Haru?” Makoto called out, worried, when Haruka simply dropped a paperbag of what seemed like several packs of _furikake_ and a carton of eggs without saying a single word. Not even a sweet ‘I’m home’ or a cute little offer to cook him dinner. Nothing. And it worried him.

The taller of the two stood up, almost bumping his lamp off the table. “Haru? You alright?” he tried again to get his attention when he walked to the bedroom. He saw Haruka face and body down on the bed, not bothering to change his clothes “Haru,” Makoto chimed again when Haruka did nothing but lay on the bed, his face buried on the pillows.

The weary boy didn’t move an inch when he finally talked, his strange voice muffled by the sheets and pillows. “I’m really tired. Sorry, I can’t make dinner.”

“It’s fine, really,” Makoto said as he approached the sluggish figure on his bed. He didn’t want to ask anymore, knowing Haruka wanted nothing else but to sleep at that moment. He must be really tired from training. College swimming wasn’t fun and games after all. So Makoto lowered himself by standing on his knees and brushing Haruka’s hair until the man journeyed into a deep sleep, smiling faintly. He draped over a blanket over him. “Good night.”

After that, Makoto went back to their humble kitchenette. He opened a sachet of his favorite _furikake_ flavor and sprinkled the contents onto a bowl of rice before returning to his unfinished schoolwork.

-

Makoto only noticed he had fallen asleep on the couch when he found it hard to sit straight up out of his solid sleep, in reaction to the sunshine seeping through their windows.

“Mmm…” His grumbling and the creaking of the sofa whenever he moved broke the quiet of the wee morning hours. He looked around in confusion before his eyes caught the wall clock. He rubbed his eyes with the heels of his big hands. “It’s still six…”

The first thing he did was to check up on Haruka—who wasn’t in his bed. Perhaps he was already in the bath? Makoto slept at around midnight, so he had to yawn two or three times to get rid of his drowsiness.

“Haru, you in there?” he muttered through the morning draft. Shivering slightly, Makoto was rubbing his eyes when he aimlessly stalked the bathroom. “Haru,” he said again, but no one responded. There wasn’t even a sound of water splashing. It seemed to awfully quiet.

A sound of a bathroom door opening. “Don’t spend too much time in there, you—”

Haruka laid on the bathtub like it was his bed, seemingly pale and unconscious, arms hanging from the edge of the tub. Makoto’s breath hitched and the sleepiness he had been trying to get rid of vanished in an instant.

“Haru…!” He breathed out, his gasp misting in the cold air. Makoto ran towards the other man, who tried opening his drained blue eyes. And that was when Makoto noticed Haruka was shaking, despite being soaked in hot water.

“…I feel...awful,” Haruka answered Makoto’s nervous calls of his name. He felt his body being scooped up and soon realized he was out of the water. Haruka stood weakly when his feet felt cold tiled floor. His knees wobbled, finding it harder and harder for him to stand. If Makoto wasn’t holding him so tightly, he would’ve fallen by now.

“You have a fever,” Makoto said when he touched Haruka’s damp forehead with his palm, his other arm supporting the naked figure by the waist. Panic warred within him. Haruka was literally burning. He was unsure whether it was because of the hot bath water or his actual temperature, but either way, Makoto still panicked. Haruka was on full support by then, even letting his head weight drop on Makoto’s shoulders.

Wrapping two large towels around the shivering Haruka, he considered carrying him back to bed. Makoto’s shirt was soaked but it was the least of his concerns when he scooped Haruka off the ground, lifting him up with his two strong arms. He could hear Haruka’s irregular breaths by their close proximity.

Makoto let the fleeting moment of carrying Haruka in his arms remain. The one with a fever radiated with heat, and yet shivered like a cat soaked in rain. Closing his green eyes, Makoto swayed as he held Haruka tighter and closer, hoping some heat would seep through him. Seeing Haruka like this made his heart sink.

There was this stream of serenity when Makoto felt ridiculously warm arms snake weakly around his neck, and a ridiculously warm breath grazing against his skin.

“…Mako…” Haruka whirred sleepily, his eyes fluttering lightly, trying to get them to open but couldn’t. He rubbed his cheeks against Makoto’s shirt when he slurred with a raspy voice, “You’re warm…”

Breathing out a short laugh, Makoto just nodded and embraced him tighter. “That’s my line.” Makoto didn’t need to move much in order to kiss the other’s forehead lightly, then press his cheek there for a long-lasting moment. Haruka was so accustomed to being alone, even when he was sick. And Makoto didn't want him to feel like that anymore. Not as long as he was there with him.

“Hang in there, just…” Makoto chanted words of comfort as he paced slowly back to their room with a sick Haruka in his arms, careful not to make him too dizzy. The towels didn’t seem to do much good against the cool morning air, so Makoto moved quickly to cover him with layers and layers of blankets just as he laid Haruka on the bed.

Haruka broke into chills as soon as Makoto’s touch was gone.

“…C-Cold,” Haruka stuttered.

“I’ll get you some clothes. Just rest for a while.”

After helping Haruka get into a pair of long-sleeved shirts and sweatpants, Makoto didn’t waste time and looked for a thermometer. It was fairly obvious Haruka had a really bad case of fever, but he needed to make sure.

“38 degrees…” Makoto whispered before keeping the thermometer by the bedside table. Sighing, he looked on over to Haruka who still shivered, but wasn’t as bad as earlier. He was rubbing his feet together, the sheets rustling noisily as he did so. Makoto minded the ticking clock, and decided to skip school. He knew Haruka would protest against it, but it seemed like he was too feverish and groggy to even assess what was happening around him.

“Sorry,” Haruka breathed out sincerely, basking in the contact of Makoto’s hand on his forehead. His body felt like the slightest touch would cut it. There was like this static sensation under his skin.

“Just rest.” Makoto straightened up and pulled a chair over so he could sit close to Haruka.

“Makoto…” Haruka wanted to tell him to go to class, and to stop skipping his classes for him. He wanted to tell him that he would be late for school. On the other hand, he wanted to tell him that he honestly wanted him to stay. To stay until he would fall asleep. He didn’t want to sound selfish and contrived, so he stayed quiet.

“I’ll stay,” Makoto murmured quietly, sensing Haruka’s silent little request. “I’ll be here,” he chided again, tugging the blankets a little more so it could cover Haruka completely. It helped knowing Haruka liked his company more than anything at that moment. Makoto crawled onto the bed and set his back against the headboard, scooting closer to his patient until Haruka automatically rested his head on Makoto’s lap.

Eyes closing for a full minute, Makoto listened to Haruka’s breathing, which seemed to have slowed down. He watched him carefully. Haruka must’ve been so tired. He would usually get a cold, but it wouldn't usually escalate into a fever.

Haruka shifted a bit, causing the other man to reopen his green eyes. “Makoto,” he said his name again. Rustling was heard from the layers and layers of blankets and it took a while for Makoto to realize Haruka was trying to get a hand out.

The boy with the fever flexed his fingers and curled them over Makoto’s right hand. “Thank you…” Haruka whispered in a strained voice, sleep slowly overcoming his senses. “Thank you for being here.” Maybe it was the fever talking, but Makoto couldn't help but feel somehow happy.

Makoto tilted his head, smile slowly pulling the corners of his lips. He inched away from the headboard and laid himself next to Haruka. The other welcomed him with a satisfied groand, plaintively reaching up to wrap his arms around Makoto's neck. It felt hot. Everything about Haruka felt so hot. Impulsively, Makoto brought Haruka's hand to his lips.

“I’ll stay for as long as you want.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Slowly college has been getting off of my shoulders and I'm having more and more free time. I'll be updating this regularly now, sorry for that long interval. Thanks for the comments and stuffs! :) I didn't know where this was going honestly. Just wanted to write something mild and sweet uwu


	12. Nocturne

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Pillow talk.

If he was asked why he disliked the draught of cold air, it would be because it meant he was in a nightmare. It meant that he was shivering, resisting the chilly evening as he tried to find the faintest source of heat. It meant he was not mentally and physically awake, that he was engulfed in an unkind dream. Haruka wasn’t afraid of the dark, nor solitude, but instead he was afraid of the cold. Because having to feel the sickening cold beneath his skin, against his cheeks, drying his mouth, meant that Makoto was no longer there.

Never was there a time he would feel cold at night. In a dark and silent place, Makoto would always protect him from the cold. But in his dream, there was nothing. There was no warmth. Makoto was gone. Somewhere he wouldn’t be able to go—at least not yet.

Haruka wouldn't know what to do if that time would come.

“Makoto...!”

The lurking fear which triggered Haruka to open his eyes and come to his senses was a sudden and crucial validation that he woke up from a nightmare. Because as soon as he felt the familiar warmth around him, familiar arms snaking his torso, he felt like he could breathe again. His darkened eyes were opened wide. Along with the night’s unprecedented thunderstorm, Haruka’s frantic panting filled the air as he unknowingly called Makoto’s name one more time. It was just a dream, Haruka repeated in his mind. It was nothing but a dream. Silence crooned slowly as Haruka tried to guess what time it was. Was it after midnight? Summer rains had been frequent lately.

Haruka let out a quiet sigh, careful not to wake the man embracing him from behind.

A world where Makoto was no longer there. Haruka wondered if he could endure such a place.

The disconcerted young man shifted from his position before craning backward to see if Makoto was still asleep, hoping he had not stirred him awake. After waking up from such a nightmare, he wasn't very sure he could easily fall back to sleep. Second by second the room grew darker and the rain outside thicker and heavier as he watched the night go by. That was all he could do. He closed his eyes several times only to find them opening again. Haruka would get uncomfortable at every little thing, but he didn't want to break away from Makoto's sweltering cradle.

A mutter of thunder in the distance and Haruka felt the arms around him tighten. He heard droning murmurs from behind. The thunder must've woken him.

“Haru...? Did I wake you?” Haruka heard a drawling question against his neck, tickling him with Makoto’s slightest breath. He shook his head. He had been awake for almost an hour now. The bed creaked as they kept moving closer to each other, trying to fill any kind of gap between them.

“I’m... not sure if I’m still dreaming," Haruka whispered, hoping Makoto would get rid of the nipping wafts of the icy air that kept tugging on his skin.

The arms that encircled his waist seemed to have tightened even more, as if Makoto had heard his unexpressed request, securing Haruka in an inescapable embrace. Knowing Makoto, Haruka was convinced Makoto might have already guessed what was bothering him, as Makoto seemed to have every intention of staying like that.

“Bad dream?”

“Bad dream.”

Haruka closed his eyes, hoping Makoto's soothing voice could help him fall asleep. He didn’t want to stare into the dimness anymore.

“What were you dreaming about?” Makoto asked drowsily. Haruka just whined softly and straightened himself on the bed, discreetly scooting closer to Makoto.

“I can’t remember.”

“Will you tell me if I tell you what I dream about?”

Haruka got a little curious, his eyes glistening in the dark.

Makoto took in a deep breath before flashing a faint smile. “I dreamt of Haru leaving me.” It was so ridiculous when Haruka heard it. Maybe he was still half-asleep? How could he ever dream of such a thing? He felt a little hurt. Makoto huffed a little laugh and covered his forehead with Haruka’s back. He hugged him tighter. “Countless times, in several different ways, because of several different reasons, I dreamt of Haru leaving.”

He didn't know if he was angry or disappointed or offended, but before he knew it, Haruka found himself sitting up abruptly, pulling away from Makoto’s embrace. He then hit Makoto’s face with a pillow, earning him a drowsed “ow!” from the other man. Breathing through his nose, Haruka frowned at him, although Makoto couldn’t see it as the surroundings were enveloped with darkness.  


“I’ll never leave you,” Haruka said encouragingly before letting his head furiously fall back next to Makoto’s pillow. He cupped the other man's cheeks playfully, squeezing his face together. Haruka ignored Makoto's pained protests, repeating his words but more sternly this time, “I’ll _never_ leave you. Got that?”

He could tell Makoto was smiling by then and Haruka could feel himself smiling as well. Makoto chuckled. “Are you happy, Haru?”

Haruka raised a brow, not sure where Makoto was heading. “Do I come across as unhappy?” He asked staring at the other’s shadowed green eyes between the rainy night’s obscurity.

“I… don’t know,” Makoto answered as the other waited for a more clear explanation. “Sometimes, I don’t know what you’re thinking.”

Haruka scoffed. “Annoying...”

“Then, do I always come across as annoying?” Makoto asked gravely like he had been wanting to ask that question for a long time. Haruka frowned again. Why were they having this kind of talk in the middle of the night anyway? He didn’t like it. He wanted to go back to sleep. The man in front of him laughed lightly. “Sorry. I’m kind of boring, aren’t I?”

Haruka responded with a sigh, “That’s not true.”

“It scares me sometimes.” Makoto yawned, murmuring something along with it.

“What?”

“Of you leaving, or that you would get tired of me.”

Again, Haruka sighed heavily in resignation. It felt like whatever he would say, Makoto would distort it. The guy was half-asleep but he was being abnormally more honest than usual. His annoyance was slowly turning into anger. He was angry because Makoto was thinking so pessimistically.

“I won’t. I won’t ever get tired of you.” Before Makoto could come up with a harmful response, Haruka admitted. “Yes. I do think you’re annoying. Because you always think you're not good enough.” Haruka just couldn’t understand his lack of self-awareness. Because Makoto was impossibly perfect even as a human being. If Haruka could count all the things that made him love Makoto, he wouldn’t be able to stop counting. He could start writing all these reasons on the ceiling, across the room, on the walls, and yet it wouldn’t be enough. He had this glow, a nauseatingly gentle glow that makes everyone attracted to him.

But still, he couldn’t say any of his thoughts out loud. What annoyed him wasn’t Makoto at all. Maybe he was annoyed at himself all this time. He never really thanked him hard enough. For everything. It annoyed him because he felt thoroughly incapable. Finally, after sensing Makoto’s dejection through his breathing, Haruka _tried_. ~~~~

“Y-You... always know what to say,”

“Haru…?”

“You’re the one I’m the most comfortable with. I'm always at ease when I'm with you.”

“Haru, what—”

“You’re ridiculously nice. You'll probably hold an umbrella over a duck on a rainy day.”

“What? That’s not—!” Makoto stopped for a moment before chuckling. “Okay, maybe I will. But that doesn’t make me nice at all. I—”

As much as Haruka wanted to keep his voice down, he found that he couldn’t anymore. “Do you want to know what I dreamt about? Will you stop if I tell you that I’m so scared?" His voice was starting to break, but he didn't care. "I’m so… _scared_ that someday you’ll be... gone. That someday, you won’t be here to warm me up on a rainy night like this—that someday, you won’t be here to comfort me when I had a bad dream. That someday… someday…”

When he trailed off, on the brink of letting out a pathetic whimper, he knew Makoto would take the chance to slow him down and kiss the corner of eye, as if he already knew he had tears to catch. Haruka felt hands caressing the back of his ears, pulling his face closer. He closed his eyes out of embarrassment.

“I’m sorry,” Makoto whispered, rubbing his thumb against Haruka’s temples. He let out a quiet, charming laugh before he assured, “I won’t die so easily though.”

Haruka wasn’t sure if that made him feel better. He glared at the man inches away from his face. “You’re the kind of guy who dies first in video games.”

Makoto pouted. “Now you're just being mean…”

Happiness overwhelmed him as Haruka’s face flushed under scrutiny. It felt somehow nice, although embarrassing, to have let his thoughts out. He smiled affectionately at Makoto.

“If Makoto dies today, I’ll die tomorrow.”

He heard Makoto laugh again, still holding Haruka’s face in his hands, seeing each other’s happy face. "I won't let that happen."

Of course he wouldn't. He was Makoto. Even as a ghost, Makoto would be able to stop him and urge him to live on. That was the kind of person Makoto was. And it made Haruka glad. Suddenly feeling his eyelids getting heavy, he murmured softly. “I’m sleepy…”

“Oh yeah?” Makoto asked in relief and realized it was his cue to position Haruka against his chest. Haruka liked having Makoto as his pillow, so that he knew he was real and alive and just _there._  He laid comfortably over his chest, making sure his heart was still beating. "You think you can sleep now?"

Haruka nodded. “Please keep talking…” He sounded a bit incredulous. Haruka found it hard to speak as slumber slowly overwhelmed him. He just listened, carefully and profoundly, to Makoto’s voice that sounded like nocturnes, to Makoto’s heartbeat, and then closed his eyes.

Makoto seemed to be willing enough to talk until Haruka would fall asleep. “I love you. I love your voice, and your sense of humor that nobody gets. I love that you always put me in a good mood even when you're not doing anything. I love how you swim, your body, and what it feels like…”

He wanted Makoto to stay for as long as he could tolerate him. Haruka used to venture the deepest trenches by himself, trapped by the sea, but Makoto lifted him up and washed him ashore—the only one who would be patient enough to do so. He loved that he was there next to him, his body so perfectly intertwined with his. He smiled softly. Makoto was real. He was there. And he was staying.

Haruka could hardly believe how much he loved Makoto. When Makoto held him, it didn’t make the chilly air go away, it didn’t make the darkness or the rain go away. His dreams and the cold would still haunt him. He was sure of it. The cold draft the midnight storm was causing still swallowed him. When Makoto held him, he didn’t feel safe, but instead he felt better, and suddenly the frosty evening air didn’t seem so bad.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Happy birthday to my lovely best friend [kathdays!](http://www.kathdays.tumblr.com) I've been kinda cold to you lately but don't let that get you down. As you may already know, I am currently broke as fuck and I can't buy you anything and this is all I could give ;_; It's short and stupid I'm sorry. I wrote it during work because there were no flights..........
> 
> Update: I got you donuts.


	13. Morning

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Makoto used to hate mornings.

Makoto’s favorite time of the day would be when the whole cityscape would resemble the hinterlands of his hometown. Second by second, the young sun would animate the overcast clouds of dusk, then slowly the sky would turn blue. While the buildings seemingly remained as jagged black frontiers in the horizon, the sun would grow brighter and brighter until the sky was trembling with the subtle light of daybreak.

It was when the morning would be refreshingly cold despite the dedication of summer, though not precisely too bone-chilling for Makoto to curl up and rub his feet together for heat. The air had the right amount of chill to peacefully wake him up and the right amount of warmth to arouse him.

It was when his bed wasn't just simply warm. In his favorite hour of the morning—even though he wasn't a morning person himself—Makoto would always be careful to stay on his side of the mattress, especially since he didn't want to wake the person beside him. And he liked it that he couldn't stop himself from smiling.

His favorite time of the day would be when the usual inscrutable face of Haruka would remain so guileless and vulnerable—exposed and quiet while the sunrays seeping from the curtains would slowly crawl to his fair skin. Makoto could say it was a scene he very much preferred than the skyline of the city. It was also that time of the day when Makoto would smile, because he knew his bedmate was awake, but still feigned sleep, because he probably loved the fact that Makoto would spend so much time making sure every strand of his dark hair was in place and out of the way. His closed eyelids would twitch ever so often, and ever so slightly it could pass as almost unnoticeable. But not to Makoto, whose face was just an inch’s space away.

It was that time of the day when he could breathe in what the other would breathe out. Haruka’s scent wafted with the morning air and Makoto tilted his head a little to the left so his lips would brush against Haruka’s forehead. And he breathed him in like he would breathe in air, like a necessity, to live and go through the day. He would smile against the cold skin, and the one pretending to be asleep would shift in surprise, his shoulders tensing, his eyebrows creasing.

“Mmmmm.” Makoto heard a drawling sound beside him. He huffed out a soft laugh while Haruka let himself get pulled closer. Makoto didn’t hold him too tight. Because he knew it would be harder for him to let go. Haruka stirred slightly, easing into the warm bed and warm body next to him. He murmured confusedly, heavy eyes struggling to open, “…What time is it?”

It was Makoto’s favorite time of the day no doubt. “It’s seven o’clock.”

Through his nose, Haruka drew in a deep breath and opened his eyes. Then there was sunlight in his eyes—mesmerizing blue, and after a while it was gone again. Makoto had to catch his breath. His lips touched the closed eyelids once more. He liked that he could kiss him just because he could. “Still sleepy?”

Haruka replied with a groan and a small nod of the head, eyes closed shut.

Both of them had morning classes, but Haruka seemed to always forget that. “We’re going to be late,” Makoto whispered.

“Five more minutes.” His voice was so soft and burdened with sleep Makoto had to give in. Haruka let out an appreciative moan and burrowed himself closer to the person beside him.

The corners of Makoto’s lips curled into smile. He chuckled. He had to wait for five minutes to finally decide and wake up completely. But Haruka didn’t budge. So he scooted closer until his lips brushed Haruka’s ears. “If you don’t wake up I’ll end up cooking breakfast.”

Haruka opened his eyes—completely, this time. He blinked a few times before looking up to the man next to him. And Makoto looked back just as endearingly, while Haruka’s eyes sparkled despite his heavy lids and early morning gaze.

“Don’t ever cook breakfast," Haruka murmured as if he was pleading.

“I can cook mackerel," Makoto argued as he untangled himself from both the covers and Haruka.

Haruka flopped onto his side when he was given more space. “You don't cook, you _murder_ mackerel.”

Makoto just laughed and apologized. Cooking wasn’t really his forte and Haruka knew that all too well. He decided to get up first and sat on the edge of the bed, but not before planting a light kiss on the other’s cheek. “I’ll make coffee, then.”

“That’s the only thing you can make.”

“I can't argue with that,” he said. Makoto could cook, but it was usually a matter of luck instead of skill. “Want anything else with coffee?”

“I’d like a 183cm backstroke swimmer back in bed.”

Makoto had to pause and blinked at Haruka. “Haven’t you had enough of that?” He joked. Makoto heard the rustling of the sheets as Haruka covered himself completely with the cream white blanket. He tried not to laugh. It must be the drowsiness talking. There was no way Haruka could say that consciously. And Haruka himself must’ve realized that as well.

With that Makoto stood up, stretched a little and left the room, unaware Haruka dozed off again.

There are many parts in Makoto’s favorite time of the day. He’d make either coffee, tea, or juice—whichever Haruka preferred for that particular day. But he didn’t need to say a word. If Haruka was evidently too sleepy, it was automatic for Makoto to make coffee. If he woke up without hassle, he would prepare tea. If Haruka woke up with a smile on his face, he would whip up some juice.

After that, Haruka would often get up idly, complete with bed hair and a series of lengthy yawns, wearing either his shirt which was too large for his smaller frame or his boxer shorts which was slipping slightly off his hips. It was the time when Makoto realized he liked the sleep-strewn, helpless Haruka who wore oversized clothes better. It was a sight only he could only witness in the wee hours of the morning.

That was why seven o’clock was Makoto’s favorite time of the day.

Because it was the time of the day when he loved Haruka the most.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Well this was fun to write. It was a little short but I hope it's sufficient! The last one really was stale wasn't it lol. Thanks for reading!
> 
> Things will get better, babe ;)

**Author's Note:**

> MAIN A/N: Every chapter will be university hijinks, lovey-dovey flashbacks, lots of hugs, domestic antics, sweet shenanigans, and cute couples doing cute mundane things. I began to work on this even before the writers of Free! mentioned something about Makoto going to Tokyo. (I kinda want that to happen to the show though, except the whole forgetting high school part)
> 
> Title is the song Seven Hours by Lucy Schwartz and Aqualung. Here's [a playlist I made](http://8tracks.com/tammyhyeong/seven-hours-makoharu) just for this.
> 
> You can find me on [tumblr.](http://dahliadenoire.tumblr.com/)


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